Mayonnaise (Re-upload)
by DanniSSnape
Summary: This is a re-upload of a story I started in the summer on another account that I can't get into anymore. Post War: AU after the end of Deathly Hallows. The Death Eaters escape from Azkaban and Severus Snape is their Undesirable Number One. Headmistress McGonagall sends him into hiding in Ireland, were he meets someone he presumed dead. M for a reason, please R&R
1. Prologue

Chapter 1: Prologue

**A/N:**

_This is not my first fanfiction, although it is the first I have made on this profile and the first I have written in around three or four years. I'm not going to tell you what the other one's are because they were written when I was young and had no practice and I'd like to forget about them all together if at all possible. I have only a general outline plan made up, and because of the fact that I'm almost making it up as I go along, posting will be very irregular. Shit happens. There might be two days gap between posts, there might be a months. I'm sorry about that but I felt I should definitely warn anyone who will get frustrated with that straight away._

_The common plot line of fanfiction that I'm both basing this fanfiction off of and also totally ignoring is the one that goes like this: Everyone thinks Severus is dead - Hermione falls in love with the idea of him being all dark and mysterious and having saved all their lives - turns out Severus isn't dead but he's very broken and needs help - cue romance._

_I'm twisting this around backwards. I thought it would be fresh for everyone to think Hermione was dead and that she would save Severus' life and that he'd (once again, unfortunately enough for him) fall in love with a dead woman who showed him kindness._

_Also, just as a heads up, music is going to feature heavily in this fanfiction, and though it is set in the time frame of the year 1999+ (apart from this chapter, the prologue), I'm not going to bother limiting myself with only music that came before that year, as a decent chunk of the relevant music used in this fanfiction will probably have been made after that. So if you dare to skip past this and then try to correct me about it later I will cyber-slap you out of it. I will include a list of any and all songs (even if they are only briefly mentioned or hummed or something) in an author's note at the end of every chapter._

**_This fic is rated M for violence, swearing (a LOT of swearing), touchy subjects including domestic abuse, miscarriages, attempted suicide and self mutilation. You have been warned. This is not a cheery fic, and I beg you to remember that as we go on. Thank you._**

**I do not own any characters who's names are recognised from the Harry Potter series. I do, however, own some of my own. I do not profit from writing this fanfiction, so don't go suing me like an asshole.**

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**Prologue**

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The dull roaring in her ears reminded her of taking off in a plane, and her eardrums hadn't popped yet. It felt like pressure from nothing. It made her blind, deaf and dumb.

Hermione Granger stood in the center of The Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, watching the lifeless body of the Dark Lord Voldemort keel slowly backwards. Red, evil eyes frozen in shock stared without seeing from a grey face that had long ago lost any trace of belonging to a human being.

The back of Voldemort's head connected to the stone floor of the castle with a deafening crack. His death was ironically mortal; the body crumpled on the ground, undignified and final.

All hell broke loose.

The safety of pressure left her in a sudden rush of sound and colour. There was a unified flick of turning dark robes as the remaining Death Eaters tried to escape, having easily justified their abandonment of their cause after watching their revered Master fall uncermeniously dead at the Potter boy's feet. _No loyalty among cowards._ Hermione thought fleetingly. She couldn't seem to make herself focus on anything except her own heartbeat, suddenly aware of how very much alive she was. The familiar 'thun-thun' of her too-quick pulse assured her that maybe she would live through the end after all. Lord Voldemort was finally dead. They could end it now. They could claim their victory.

_Although could you really call it victory?_

Hermione forced the bile creeping up her throat back down into the depths and forcefully held it there. She knew she should be helping and internally she kicked herself and her frantic uselessness - standing around gaping like a First Year on the lake wasn't going to help catch loose Death Eaters. It wouldn't treat the injured.

Wouldn't avenge the dead.

Her heart and soul crushed themselves into miniscule pieces of shattered dust that dissipated into the stone of the castle just as the mis-aimed spells and hexes did as they crackled past her person. She could feel the heat radiating from the more deadly ones as they whizzed and dislodged her hair.

Hermione Granger stood stock still in the middle of The Final Battle and counted the dead.

The bodies of Remus and Tonks lay on their backs, hands almost touching on the floor only a handful of feet away. _Remus and Dora Lupin. _She corrected herself. Married with dreams that would never be fulfilled, they had left behind a baby that would never understand why he didn't have a Mummy and Daddy to tuck him in at night and tell him "Sweetie, there's no such thing as monsters". _Of course there are monsters_, Hermione thought bitterly. _Monsters are the reason he won't have parents._

Fred Weasley. She could spot a shock of fire-red hair in a corner by the rubble and a shattered window. Fred; one half of a duo that could not exist fractured. She wondered for a moment how George was going to cope with his death when the adrenaline of battle was missing and the chance of revenge was either seized or left hanging. Hermione knew they wouldn't get every Death Eater, that was inevitable. Someone always escaped, but their job was to minimize the importance and number of the someones. Hermione thought back to the night where George has lost his ear. _Foreshadowing,_ she thought, _one half of a pair taken away in battle_. It would have been almost funny if it was something she'd have read in a work of fiction. But this had happened, and it was staring her in the face.

Poor little Colin Creevey sat propped against the wall, wide-eyed and very dead. Hermione remembered the small boy with too much enthusiasm fondly, and recognised that he had easily had the best photography skills she had ever seen. And with a Wizard's Camera, no less. Colin wasn't meant to have been able to stay behind. He was neither seventeen or in his seventh year at school. Gryffindor recklessness coupled with a desire to protect and serve the building that he and his brother had considered a home-away-from-home for years led to this unforgivable breaking of rules. This obviously had the more than unfortunate consequence of him walking into his own death. Maybe Colin had known it to be a suicide mission and felt as if he needed to help anyway. That went far beyond being a golden, noble Gryffindor. That was being both foolish and yet more selfless than probably anyone else in this room had ever been.

Hermione wondered what would happen to his photographs.

A deathly green spell buzzed passed her ear. She did not flinch.

Four. So far.

Her eyes crawled across the room methodically and found no more dead lying on the stone. She did find dying, however, but she was too numb, her vision surrounded by a haze and feeling as if there was a layer of unyeilding fuzz over her skin. _Useless!_ she screamed to herself, and yet she still could not will her body into movement. She was using all her control to keep her stomach acid down as it was. That was all that was in her stomach too: she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. Hermione thought for a fleeting moment that perhaps she should be worried about that. She wasn't.

Her eyes fell to the doors of the Great Hall, where one had been broken into brittle pieces and was being used as clubs by those who had lost their wands. Out in the halllways lying with her face turned in the direction of the open doors was Lavender Brown. Pretty blue eyes, blank in a white face. Cannibalised by a werewolf Death Eater, still in human form.

Five.

Hearing noises behind her she turned her head to watch seven of Voldemort's followers scream in angony as their skin was melted from their bones by a particularly vengeful Order Member whom Hermione did not recognise. The screaming stopped soon after it started.

Twelve.

An Auror and a man who did not don the robes of the Dark were locked in a battle of vicious curses and dark hexes. Hermione recognised the Auror as Dawlish, a thin man with a balding head sparsley populated with brown locks, who had once tried to arrest the Great Albus Dumbledore (just the fact that he had tried to take on one of the greatest men in wizarding history showed his loyalty to his position in the Aurory at the Ministry). She assumed his opponent to be a Death Eater sympathiser, if not just an under-dressed Death Eater.

The both of them hit each other with the Killing Curse at the same moment, and both died successful and surprised. Out of the corner of her eye Hermione watched two more Death Eaters drop to the floor dripping blood from head wounds, Professor Trelawney having chucked heavy crystal balls at them._Divination has it's uses. _Hermione conceded as she watched Trelawney howl like a mad woman. Although Hermione supposed she was a mad woman.

Glancing back into the hall again she saw a mass of Hogwarts robes and counted three differently sized hands with blue fingernails.

Nineteen.

For the first time in her life Hermione Granger truly understood that the end did absolutely _fucking not_justify the means. Nineteen people in her field of vision dead was nineteen too many, even including the Death Eaters. And that was one room in one massive castle in one battle at one time. She could not help the long and disgusting list of lives that the twenty-three year long war had claimed from presenting themselves as bullet-points in her vision.

Lilly and James Potter. Dead.

Professor Quirrell. Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel. Moaning Myrtle (although that had been fifty-odd years ago Hermione felt obligated to include her as a victim of Voldemort, and as she had the significance of having been used to create his first Horcrux from the Diary). All dead.

Twelve unsuspecting and oblivious Muggles at the hands of Peter Pettigrew, and one finger. Tom Riddle Sr, Thomas Riddle, Mary Riddle. Bertha Jorkins. Frank Bryce, the caretaker of the Riddle House, who had been used to create the Horcrux Nagini. Dead because of pure bad luck and a desire to keep the house he had cared for free of hooligans, squatters and children who were too curious for their own good. Dead.

Hermione began to hyperventilate as she continued her count. The bile was churning again.

Barty Crouch Sr, and his son - having been Kissed was also as good as dead. Marlene McKinnon and her whole family had been slaughtered in a Death Eater raid. Gideon and Fabian Prewett, twin brothers of Molly Weasley.

Sirius Black. Dead.

Hepzibah Smith, Amelia Bones, Florean Fortescue, Igor Karkaroff. Regulus Black, Charity Burbage, Alastor Moody, Rufus Scrimgeour.

Hedwig. Dead.

Gregorovitch the wand maker. Bathilda Bagshot. Ted Tonks. Dirk Cresswell. Gornuk the Goblin. Peter Pettigrew, who found out the consequences of trying to deny a Life Debt. Bogrod the Goblin. Vincent Crabbe. Bellatrix Lestrange no less than twenty minutes ago, maybe a little longer, at the hands of the Weasley matriarch who had definitely proved that she would do anything and everything for her babies.

Dobby. The most brave and loyal Free Elf to have ever graced the halls of Hogwarts. Hermione once again had to force herself to not be sick as she remembered that poor, sweet Dobby had died _for her_. If she could have moved she would've fingered the everlasting wounds of an awful word carved into her left forearm with Bellatrix Lestrange's poisoned blade. It couldn't heal, much like the wound Dolohov had left her with in the Department of Mysteries that diagonally bisected her sternum and still burned and weeped if she stretched the skin or scratched it.

Voldemort was dead.

Albus Dumbledore was also dead. The two iconic leaders, the personification of Dark and Light; Voldemort with his demonic appearance and black cloak, and Professor Dumbledore, who looked like a political cartoon of God in his brightly coloured robes. Although, just like God, Hermione knew Dumbledore could be as cruel and ruthless as any Demon, but still think he was doing right.

But someone has to make those decisions, and better it be him than her.

_There still should have never been any decisions to make._

Hermione cursed and internally spat on her near-perfect memory. The battle raged on and she totalled.

At least eighty. Probably more.

Just about to finally finish and accept her numbers and finally join in with the battle that was starting to die down, she felt as if she'd forgotten something._Maybe if I move now I can still tend to the inj-_

She remembered.

Severus Snape. Professor of Hogwarts, Potions Master, Head of Slytherin House, Death Eater and member of the Order of the Phoenix. Murderer of Albus Dumbledore.

Distantly she heard cheering and her subconscious recognised that the battle had been fought, and finished. But her mind was stuck on one trail of thought and would not be dislodged.

Severus Snape.

Not dead.

Hermione had never run so fast in her life. She usually avoided doing so as much as possible, on account that she had inherited her Grandad's lungs. Terrible lungs in the first place, and she'd had two extremely bad bouts of pneumonia, one when she was seven and the other during the summer between her third and fourth year, the turmoil had left her with around one lung's worth of working tissue. The rest was made up of useless scar tissue, and did not make for decent sprinting.

Medicinal potions clinked and clanked in a bag she had plucked from a pile of rubble on her way down to the Potion's classroom, begging all the way that she would find something, _anything_, of use. Thankfully, she had managed to procure a Skin-Knitting potion, a Blood-Replenisher and an anti-inflammatory. That was all she had managed however, as everything else in the room had either been taken or was in piles of shattered glass and black goop on the floor. Figures that something meant to heal would turn into sinister looking sludge when it went bad.

Hermione practically flew up the stairs and through the corridors to get out of the castle onto the grounds, her hair whipping against her cheeks when she turned her head every which way to look out for remaining enemies. Passing by the Great Hall she heard someone call her, but in response picked up speed.

If she had the power in her to save this one man today, she would.

Over the grounds towards the Shrieking Shack, she wondered what was provoking her to save him over the rest. A sense of loyalty to a Hogwarts professor, perhaps. Maybe it was because he had been on their side after all - if Harry's speech before he executed Voldemort was to be believed. Perhaps it was because she had been so useless earlier during the Battle and needed to do something to assuage her guilt; maybe she would have done anything.

_Or maybe it's just because you feel bad for him_, Hermione thought to herself. _You shush._

As much as she had been damning and cursing her memory earlier when she recalled the List of the Dead, she was now thanking it profusely for remembering all those "useless facts in textbooks" that the man she was about to save had accused her of memorising. She didn't actively memorise anything, really; if she read something more than once she remembered it anyway. It was usually impossible for Hermione to forget anything. It made arguments with her boys interesting.

She hoped her boys were alright.

She could hear the relevant passage of the book_European Snakes and their Characteristics by E.W. Pipes_recite itself in her head as she ran. Panting and out of breath. _Why are the grounds so_ bloody _large_.

_"Vipera ammodytes. Colouration is grey with a black zigzag pattern. Dark stripes are usually found behind each eye. This viper is responsible for many bites. Deaths have been recorded. Its venom is hematomic, causing severe pain and tissue damage, and it jaws can come down at 14kgs. However, the viper also uses its venom as a preservative. The venom numbs the body and slows blood flow and heart rate to near death, to preserve the body in a live state for as long as possible. This enables the snake to last through long winters where mammals are in hibernation and the ammodytes finds it harder to hunt. In a human case, if found and treated medically within three hours the rate of survival is decently high; approx. 63%. Common distribution: Italy, Yugoslavia, northern Albania, Romania."_

"A good rate of survival within three hours". By her own count, Hermione figured the professor had been left for around two and a half since Nagini attacked. She quietly thanked the gods that Voldemort didn't allow his pet to eat him also. Although, the fact that the bite had been centered at his throat would have to be factored in. Hermione thought she could do it. Hoped she could.

_Maybe Harry isn't the only one with a "saving people thing"._

She approached the huge, aggressive tree with more than a little apprehension, and began searching for a stick to poke at the immobilising-knot at the base of the tree. Bent over and scrabbling at the dirt, she did not hear or see the branch until it connected with her ribs. She was knocked onto her back in the damp grass. Hermione gasped as the wind was beaten out of her. She both heard and felt the snap of one of her ribs and couldn't help but stifle a sob. It was bad. It hurt, a lot.

Groaning and panting she pushed through the pain and rose to her hands and knees, feeling jagged bone grind off of jagged bone as the segments of her broken ribbed jabbed against each other with every movement she made. Snape better be bloody well thankful when she was finished. She reached the arm above the broken rib slowly and tentatively out to grab a nearby branch; she didn't feel that arm would be able to hold her own weight if she tried to use the other one.

That came to be a bad decision. The branch was slippy with rain but Hermione managed to grip it tightly, and she swung back her arm and threw it forward again, letting the branch loose. It hit perfectly on target.

Her broken rib slid on the inside of her muscles and she felt herself being torn up on the inside, by her bottom rib on the right side, vertically under her arm-pit. She couldn't help but cry out this time. Hermione knew that she'd definitely have internal bleeding as a result, but her number one priority was to get the professor back to the castle, and then she could have Madam Pomfrey fix it for her. Or maybe even Luna, she thought. Luna had a flair for healing spells.

Hermione pulled herself to her feet, trying not to wretch as she was blinded by pain for a few moments. After a few deep breaths she stopped seeing spots and by the time she took her steps towards the entrance in the trunk of the tree, she had steadied herself enough and the pain had reduced to a dull throb; she could now go save the cranky professor who would more than likely have no thanks for her. Typical day in the life of Hermione Granger. _Saving people who forget to say thank you._

Twenty minutes later the body of a white-as-a-sheet Severus Snape emerged from under the Whomping Willow, being shakily levitated on a badly-transfigured stretcher, held up by nothing other than the sheer determination of a young witch who refused to let one more good wizard die. Okay, well maybe "good" was going a bit far, but she still wanted to save him anyway. Moon crater-sized warts and all.

In a ridiculous amount of pain but triumphant, Hermione limped and gasped her way back in the direction of Hogwarts Castle. There was a side door that came out on the inside of the castle at the portrait of Hogbod the Goblin King on the second floor, located on in the wall in the direction of the Entrance Hall, before you hit the courtyard. She wouldn't take him in the front door. Innocent or not, Hermione thought there would more than likely be a few Aurors or ex-students of his that would like to get a few digs into him before he became an official War Hero.

She hugged the stone wall of the castle as she rounded a corner, keeping Snape's body low and steady to avoid floating him in front of the stain glass windows at the back of the Great Hall. She could hear murmured conversation from inside, and felt vibrations of laughter. Maybe things could go back to normal soon.

Hermione cautiously and slowly rounded the last corner, another thirty steps and she could feel for the fake stone in the wall. When she came out in the second floor there was a portrait of Bartimus the Rowdy that would take her right outside the doors of the Hospital Wing.

Suddenly she nearly swerved into the wall at the sight that greeted her. Hermione was sure she would finally be sick. Out on the grounds of Hogwarts, laid in neat, morbid rows, were bodies. Too many to count this time. Death Eater, Order Member, Hogwarts Student alike, were placed neatly in a scene befitting a history book in a section on the Holocaust. The Deat Eaters were in their own rows, however, laid out more haphazardly and with uncoincidential disrespect. Some were just face-down in the dirt. Unlike the Death Eaters, the rows of students, Aurors and Order of the Phoenix members, were laid out perfectly neat, arms crossed (and sometimes where there were missing limbs, just _arm_), eyes closed, looking peaceful. As if they were only sleeping.

A moment later she really wished she'd had the forward thinking to put Snape under some sort of a Disillusionment charm. She hadn't known what kind of effect magic would have on his poison-riddled body. She didn't want to get beat up by a tree and crawl through dirt just to have him die because she doubted her own stealth. Hermione could feel the area around the broken rib swelling, the skin feeling tight and more than a little tender. Her breathing felt as if she had phlegm in her lungs too, and she categorised that information while pulling herself and Snape as close to the wall as possible, crouching low on the ground to avoid detection. There was no choice in whether to Disillusion him or not now, seeing as she would have to cancel the Levitation charm to do so, and she doubted she would have the strength to pick him back up again. Levitating a feather would have been bad enough in her current condition.

Professor Minerva McGonagall was levitating a bloodied and still Death Eater to join the mass of bodies in the grounds. Her face was pinched, her hair toussled and her robes dishevelled. Hermione's heart beat faster and stronger, drumming a violent tattoo on the inside of her rib cage as the Transfiguration teacher drew unknowingly closer and closer to her and her unconscious companion. Hermione didn't know why she felt she had to hide. It was just McGonagall, but still there was the hum of danger and Hermione had learned nothing over the last year if not to trust her instincts.

The adrenaline in her body hightened her senses as she tried to remain hidden. The _stench_. The copper smell of dried blood, bodies that had emptied both bladders and bowels, and the sickening smell of already-rotting flesh as wounds were left to the elements. Death was neither pretty or elegant.

Hermione couldn't repress the gag. The retching sound drew McGonagall's attention, and maybe ten meters away from the battered duo she dropped the body of the Death Eater on top of another, and swung her wand around in their direction.

"Good gods Miss Granger, are you alright? Oh!" McGonagall gasped as she took in the prone form of Snape on the battered stretcher. "Is that Severus? Potter said he'd died!"

Hermione couldn't manage a reply. She began to retch into the pile of weeds to her right, away from the two Professors. She couldn't stand the aroma of death. Tears leaked from her watery eyes as she threw up nothing but pure stomach acid into the grass on her hands and knees. Her throat began to burn and she let out a sob, which made her gag.

Rinse, repeat.

In her distress, her levitation charm failed and Snape's body dropped from its position of a foot above the ground with an almighty thud. It was fortunate he was deeply unconscious.

"Oh Merlin, Granger!" McGonagall rushed to Hermione's side, but she was waved off into the direction of the other Professor, making unintelligable noises between crying and heaving. The damn holding her together through the battle had obviously broke. She managed to hiccup out "Him - _hic_ \- I'm - _hic_ \- fine -_retch_ \- please!" and though Minerva frowned disapprovingly at her, she moved to tend to the Professor who was in a heap on the ground.

"I'm so glad you found him alive Miss Granger," she started as Hermione's stomach finally stopped seizing. "I couldn't imagine my last words to him being 'coward'. He always hated being called that. Now I suppose I know why." She huffed the last words out of her nose as she stood and re-transfigured the badly-made stretcher into something more suitable for an injured person to be carried on.

"It's not your fault Professor," Hermione reassured her, wiping the sleeve of her jumper across her mouth. "It's not as if you knew he was innocent." Hermione's throat burned, and breathing made the right side of her chest ache. She coughed into her hands and the came away speckled with red. She wiped her mouth again.

"I know that, but still-" McGonagall didn't get to finish her sentence. Hermione shot to her feet despite that burning pain in her upper body, and pointed her wand at the Death Eater, who had his wand fixed right in between her eyes. It was the one McGonagall had carried out herself. Everyone was obviously too exhausted to keep up proper safety measures.

McGonagall couldn't draw her wand to help before the Death Eater started the curse that would end Hemione's life.

"_Avad-"_

"_-a Kadavra!_"

The curse died in his throat as his face morphed into utter shock and disbelief.

McGonagall screamed.

Hermione stared, mouth open and eyes wide at her wand, as she felt her soul rip in two.

This time when she retched, it was black.

She felt the taste of something _wrong_ on her tongue, as the dark liquid poured from her mouth over the front of her chin, and dribbled slowly onto the front of her chest, creeping down and stinging the wound residing there. It took her a moment to realise that the man who gave her that wound was lying dead at her feet. By her wand.

Murdered.

Hermione's body was wracked with tremors as every single atom in her body vibrated violently in protest. Staring down at her wand she felt disgust and anger. At herself, at her instrument, at magic. She glared, hyperventilating, at the wand like it was the root of all evil.

She supposed for the moment, it was.

She brought it down over her knee and snapped it in two.

McGonagall screamed again.

Snape lay unaware and unconscious still on the floor, probably comatose.

Hermione fell to her knees for the third time in an hour as she felt something else inside her crack. It wasn't her soul, and it wasn't her body; it felt like both and at the same time, neither. Something ethereal yet physical.

In that moment, Hermione Granger hated magic. She hated it more than anything she had ever had negative feelings towards in her life. More than Snape, more than Dolohov. More than Voldemort.

Not as much and more than herself.

The black came forth from her body again. She did not retch this time. She knelt, her legs awkwardly tucked underneath her, her hands grabbing fist-fulls of grass at her sides, knuckles tensed and pale. Her lion's mane of hair fell around her shoulder's and she stared, eyes dead, into the distance. Distantly, she thought she heard McGonagall calling her name. From her eyes, ears and the corners of her mouth came spilling forth a black, thick liquid. It was a dark parody of Professor Snape's leaking memories. There was nothing to learn from this material: nothing salvagable.

Hermione Granger's magic was leaving her body, and there would be no putting it back.

Briefly she wondered if she was dying.

For a little longer than briefly she thought maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea.

She took a shuddering breath and spoke to McGonagall. "Please."

"Please what, Miss Granger?" she near-shouted at Hermione, coming to kneel beside her student. She felt internally repulsed by her for some reason, but the girl needed help. "What have you done to yourself, girl?"

Hermione looked her in the eyes and pleaded. "I need to leave." Her face was begging.

"What do you mean 'leave'? We need to get you to Poppy, on your feet!"

Hermione allowed herself to be pulled into standing, but wouldn't move forward.

"I'm dead."

"Don't be stupid girl, I'm looking right at you."

"Tell them I died." Hermione clutched at the older woman's wrinkled wrists, becoming frantic. "Please Professor, I need to leave, tell them I died! No-one can know! Professor please!"

"Calm down Miss Granger!"

"I'll owe you Professor please you have to do this for me Professor _please_!" She ended on a strangled cry, her thoughts were buzzzing angrily, she needed to leave. She needed to leave NOW, and no-one could come for her.

"Okay, okay, Miss Granger, we'll get you straight up to Poppy and then we'll get you out of here-"

"No Professor you don't understand." Hermione began whispering, looking crazed and pained. "I can't go in there, Professor _I'll die. _I need to leave, and no-one can come after me. No more magic, _no more magic. _Tell them I died saving Snape, please Professor I can't do this, they _can't know_."

McGonagall didn't know what to do. Hermione pulled away from her mentor and teacher, and struggled to walk slowly away. McGonagall's eyes watered.

"Alright Miss Granger, alright." She started to cry in earnest. "Where will you go? You will owe me this Miss Granger! And one day this will be yours to explain!"

"Dublin, Dublin. I'm sorry, _I'm sorry_!" Hermione herself began to cry again, limping hurriedly away from the castle. Away from McGonagall. Away from Snape. Away from friends.

Away from magic.

She heard one last cry of "Miss Granger" before she was gone.

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_The reference of Severus hitting the ground with "an almighty thud" is taken from the song An Almighty Thud by We Were Promised Jetpacks._

_Read and Review, tell me how I did and whether I should definitely continue._


	2. Chapter One

**A/N:**

_I'm sorry about how badly I really have been updating. I have problems with ear pain and my hearing and some days it's just so hard to get up out of bed at all; but well, chronic pain will do that to you. Thank you so much for your lovely reviews, and oh wow I was not expecting as many favourites and follows as I got! I'm so happy, honestly! You're all great. Again, I apologise about the massive gap in between the chapters. Life is hectic, and I have Gay Pride this Saturday and that'll more than likely end up with me passed out in a ditch until next week, so I'm sorry in advance if there's another gap after this chapter too (although hopefully there won't be). (Also just as a point of shameless pride, any dates I use in this fic will be accurate because I love doing stuff like that). On with the show!_

**_This fic is rated M for violence, swearing (a LOT of swearing), touchy subjects including domestic abuse, miscarriages, attempted suicide and self mutilation. You have been warned. This is not a cheery fic, and I beg you to remember that as we go on. Thank you._**

**I do not own any characters who's names are recognised from the Harry Potter series. I do, however, own some of my own. I do not profit from writing this fanfiction, so don't go suing me like an asshole.**

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**Chapter One: Peter**

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_**"I have always wanted to write a book that ended with the word 'mayonnaise."**_  
_**-Richard Brautigan**_

Professor Severus Snape sat at the Head Table in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, watching as his porridge slowly turned from breakfast into cold mush. He thought it fascinating how the longer he left it, the more it looked like pig-feed. He cut an intimidating figure at the head of the room. No student dared to meet his eyes during breakfast, or any other time of the day for that matter. Only the foolhardy and reckless gave Professor Snape any reason at all to take House Points or give detentions.

He reached with a sallow, thin hand to rub the aching scars that wrapped his neck, hidden under his high-collar teaching robes. Red and still very raw, the Scottish September weather was making them flare up again. They had been given their time to heal, but Nagini's poison was not something to take lightly. It was a miracle he wasn't dead. The damp and chill weather seemed to ache through the scars, leaving a dull, tight pain that urged him to stretch his neck. He wouldn't, obviously. He had no desire to advertise his injuries to the masses.

The date was Sunday the nineteenth of September. School had been in session for two and a half weeks so far, and Severus was already tired. A year and four months since the Final Battle and the castle was finally in a functional state again, and once again the halls could flood with eager students without the looming threat of the Dark Lord and death in their distant future. The students were again free to annoy their Potions Master.

There was a near unmanagable number of First Years this year; all students who had attended Hogwarts during the Death Eater's occupation of the castle were required to repeat their school year, and there were also the incoming first years who should have started September 1998, and the one's who were supposed to start in this September of '99. All-in-all, there were eighty-four new first years ranging from the age of eleven to thirteen, and the castle and its staff were exhausted. The very stone of the establishment seemed to sink away in fear from the noise of First Year footsteps. Classes for the First Years were being taught only a house at a time, and Severus did have to aprecciate the lack of Gryffindor-Slytherin dynamics in class. He found it strenuous to supervise twenty-ish cauldrons at once instead of the usual fourteen or fifteen, but he was noticing less of a competition for points now that the houses didn't share classrooms, and there was less inter-house drama to attend to. Merlin knew he was sick of arguing with Minerva over Griffyndor-Slytherin Potions classes.

What was left of the Seventh Years that had participated in the Final Battle had been given a choice to resume their schooling, or to try and journey straight into the working Wizarding World. Practically all of them had elected to come and finish their education. As much as Severus found it stressful to have to act as a Professor over students like Longbottom and Finnegan after the dispicable acts he let the Carrows escape punishment for, he was reluctantly impressed with their initiative. Staff-room rumours had it that Longbottom was planning to apprentice under Sprout when he concluded his final year and N.E.W.T.s. Severus supposed Finnegan would be best off choosing to go to work in a firework's emporium.

The youngest of the first years being eleven, and some of the oldest Seventh Years being nineteen, there was the largest age-gap that Hogwarts had seen since it catered to adults back in the 1320's.

The Golden trio hadn't come back. The two buffoons playing man-dress-up had fared straight into Auror training the July after the Final Battle, and courtesy of newly appointed Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, would be taking their final exams to become Dark-Wizard Catchers in the next four months. The girl was dead.

Severus tried to tell himself that he didn't care.

_Try_ being the operative word.

Severus himself, however, had not come back to Hogwarts of his own volition. Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had guilted him into coming back, which he mistakingly thought was just until she could "find a replacement for Horace". Well apparently she did find a replacement, as not hours later she then manipulated him into a wand-oath, pledging himself as Potions Professor for another five years. Slughorn had resigned not ten minutes after receiving his Order of Merlin: Third Class, and Minerva had not found another English-speaking Potions Master to take his place. The eldest Weasley brother, William, had stepped in to take the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, feeling he should stay in Britain seeing as his French half-Veela wife was pregnant and couldn't travel the world with her curse-breaking husband. Severus supposed that they would determine whether the position was still jinxed by the year's closing.

Severus took a gulp of strong tea, grimacing as the heat irritated a sensitive tooth, and continued to ignore his breakfast. He used his tongue to prod one of his molars on the right side. He assumed there was a hole, even if he couldn't feel it right away. Years of neglect and sugar-filled food had left his teeth in somewhat of a state. Severus didn't know what the general public would do if they found out just how much he loved sweet food. Still, he would sooner amputate his left leg than be seen in Honeydukes.

In truth, he was glad that the Chosen One and his ginger parasite hadn't come back to Hogwarts. It was infuriating enough to hear Potter speak on his behalf during his own trial, and Severus had no doubt that Potter would have taken his hero worship into the school to further educate the students on why they shouldn't be afraid of their Potions Professor. Because, really, he's _squishy_ on the inside. Severus would never have been able to run a class with any semblence order again. He had spent a considerable amount of time dodging Potter and his inane questions at Order meetings and Ministry gatherings. Severus had burned every letter bearing his signature without reading it. He had no desire to discuss the boy's mother, whether he had loved her or not.

Loved. Past-tense.

The owls were heralded by the cacophony of beating wings and Severus turned his head up to watch them swoop into the Great Hall from the ceiling's Owl-Post holes. A copy of the _Daily Prophet _was dropped with a thud in front of Severus, narrowly missing his untouched bowl of goop. Severus shook the paper free from crumbs and rolled the rubber-band from it.

"Any word on the escapees, Severus?" on his right hand side Minerva leaned towards him with raised eyebrows. Severus didn't reply until he opened the paper to the second page, becoming quickly angry and slapping the paper down on the table in front of Minerva. Three weeks ago, an attack on Azkaban Prison had taken place which resulted in the break-out of twelve Death Eaters, three of which had been inner-circle members in the time of the Dark Lord. A couple of students glanced up at the noise of Severus' outburst and quickly stared back into their food when they saw the expession on his face. Minerva took her spectacles and perched them on the end of her nose to read the _Prophet_. "Well honestly Severus, I'd say you look quite handsome there." She handed the paper back to him.

He snarled at her, but calmed somewhat at her humour, took the toilet-worthy rag and perused the page again. Under a heading that read "ESCAPED DEATH EATERS SPOTTED IN DIAGON ALLEY" there was a picture of the side of Gringott's Wizarding Bank, his own face displayed on a large poster stuck to it. Over the poster written on the wall in what looked to be blood, was "Undersireable No. 1". Three goblins stood fidgeting at the edge of the photograph with buckets and sponges.

Severus sneered before tapping the paper with his dark wand, watching with satisfaction as it burst into flames and the ashes floated themselves into his porridge. He pushed the bowl to the side and turned to Minerva on his right. "They seem to have chosen their target against whom they'll rally supporters." he drawled, wiping ash from his robe's black sleve. It left a grey mark and he frowned at it, as if he could intimidate it away. "Should I be flattered that I am apparently more undesirable than Potter?"

Minerva gave a little chuckle and slapped him on the shoulder before sobering and frowning at him. "This is a serious matter, Severus." The corner of her eyes pinched as she looked at him. "If they have chosen you as a target then they may try to manipulate students into couriering sinister objects, or letting them into the castle." He frowned at her this time. "YOu do remember, of course, what happened with Ms Bell, and Mr Weasley when Draco was commissioned to kill the Headmaster." She held up her hand to stop him as he was about to speak. "I'm not saying that Mr Malfoy isn't trustworthy, Severus," he calmed a little. "Just that students have come in harms way in situations like this before, and I'll be damned if I let it happen again." She set a steely look on her face and drank her tea forcefully. How one can drink tea forcefully, Severus didn't know, but Minerva knew the technique.

She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm, and then sat back in her chair agin, looking in Severus' direction. "Report to my office at seven tonight and I will have a plan ready." he inclined his head in agreement. "Merlin, Severus," she shook her head in defeat. "I don't know how much fight I have left in me for these sort of things."

"Come now, Minerva," he drawled lazily. "You're only pushing eighty."

She slapped him with the buttered side of her toast.

Severus emerged from the Pensieve, sat behind his black oak desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had ten minutes before he had to meet the Headmistress, he reminded himself. He had skipped dinner in favour of taking another trip through a collection of memories yet again. Dinner was an event he often missed these days. Severus thought to himself for a moment that maybe he should be worried about that. He wasn't.

Grabbing his black cotton robe, he threw it on with a satisfying _swish_, and left his office. The memories, yet again, had not yielded any positive result. There had been no positive results at all since he started his project.

Having woken up two days after the Final Battle, lying in the crisp and white Hospital Wing, he had been both predictably surprised and less predictably pleased to find himself alive. To find out that his saviour was, of all people, Hermione Granger, had been shocking to say the least. He spent a whole half a day demanding with Poppy to see her before she finally gave in and told him the Granger girl was dead. Severus didn't know whether to be guilty for being the second hand cause of another young woman's death, or to be angry at her for being such an idiot as to go back and save him.

The Aurors and other members of the Big Cleanup had never recovered a body, however, and he began on his own quest for answers. At first, Minerva had tried tried to dissuade him by pointing out the obvious; if she had been captured by any remaining Death Eaters, they would have advertised their prey quite spectacularly in revenge for their defeat. Minerva also stressed how long it had taken to run the Acromantula away from the castle. So, Severus thought to himself, she was most likely to have been eaten by a giant spider while trying to save his life. That definitely made him feel guilty.

Still, Severus had no certainty as to whether she was dead or alive. If she was alive somewhere out there, then he owed her a life debt. The last life debt he owed was to James Potter, and since then the idea of one had been sickening. For purely selfish reasons at the beginning, he had to do something to find her. He refused to owe another life debt. He would find her, and he would make her revoke it.

Severus succeeded in convincing Minerva to let him and a handful of Order members attempt to track her four days after the Battle. Though everyone was sceptical, Neville Longbottom, Bill Wealey, Arthur Weasley and Ronald Weasley agreed to help. The youngest Wealey male was overly eager in his distraught state and had to sit out of the first day of plans on request from his father. Perhaps not so unfortunately, Potter was out of commission for a week and a half after the Battle, in a comatose state. Severus supposed that dying by the Dark Lord's hand, coming back from the dead, and then vanquishing the Dark Lord could have been a reasonable stress on the senses. Severus almost felt sorry for the boy. Almost.

After three days of tracking spells and amateur foot-tracking, they came up empty handed. The tracking spells found nothing but dissipated magic in the classrooms that she used to frequently cast spells in, and eventually led the group to her wand. Potter joined in at the very last moment, and it was he who found Granger's broken wand in the grass in the grounds near the castle, beside where Severus himself had been found on the day of the Battle. How no-one had found the wand before that Severus did not know, but obviously it had been complete and utter idiots who had searched the grounds before them. The discovery of the wand had sent both Potter and Weasley into hysterics. Severus spent the day brewing Calming Draughts and wondering whether he sgould keep searching. He could not find a single trace of her base-magical signature. The abscence of base magic was indicative only of either _extremely_Dark magic, or death.

However, Severus kept searching.

Strolling through the stone hallways towards the Headmistress' office, Severus cloak flapped behind him like dark storm clouds on a grey sky.

For just a few moments, Severus let himself admit that he carried a very obsessive personality. First, there had been Lily. He very nearly winced remembering just how obsessed he had been with her, both when he was young and also after she died. He seemed to use her as a crutch, but he had finally managed after the Battle to drop her and walk free. He felt lighter for it, sometimes. Sometimes he just felt a little lonelier for it. But that was weak, and he would sneer at himself and snap out of those moods as quickly as possible without giving himself brain damage. Then, of course, he had obsessed over his Potions Mastery. He threw his whole body, mind and soul into his study and becoming the best in the profession. Even though at that same time he had just been enfolded into the Dark Lord's circle, he never gave You-Know-Who half as much of his attention as he did his apprenticeship. After the incident where his actions had the result of Lily being put on the Dark Lord's hit list, he had put his all into spying for Dumbledore to atone for his mistakes. Then when the Potter boy started school, it was time to obsess over his safety. He may also have accidentally obsessed himself with his hatred of the boy and his father, but of course, that was accidental. Severus snorted to himself in the quiet of the corridor.

So maybe it wasn't all that unnatural a reaction for him to have become slightly obsessed with Hermione Granger. Severus frowned internally. _Somewhat more than obsessed, these days._

When the tracking failed, Severus turned instead to gathering memories. He approached most of the people who had seen her that night, asking for memories of those moments. Most had given him suspicious looks, but given in, in the end, because fortunately he could still utilise his frightening-professor image. It was hard to say no to someone who had harshly graded your homework during your school years.

The memories began with sightings during the Final Battle. Severus watched each and every one of them, and not a single memory showed the moment she disappeared, or even before it. He watched her fight Death Eaters. He memorised the colour of every spell she sent, and the movement of her lips on the incantations. His eyes trailed every bead of sweat the trailed down her forehead. He heard every gasp of pain or surprise, over and over again. He watched her fly from Fiendfyre and stab a Horcrux. He only watched her kiss the Weasley boy once. That particular memory made him feel slightly ill.

The more he watched memories of her, the more often he found his breath catch in his lungs, and his heart would situate itself inside his throat. He would find himself trying to grab her attention. Trying to grab at her, or her name would die behind his lips.

Severus rounded a corner and began to ascend the many staircases from the dungeons to the third floor. He expertly dodged trick steps and the stairs seemed to move with him, not trying to shift his path or dislodge him. The stairs brought him quickly to the Headmistress' gargoyle guardian.

Realising he was four minutes early, Severus moved further down the corridor and stood by a window, perusing the grounds. The sun was beginning to set, and the sky was painted gold.

Minerva placed her teacup back into the saucer with a clink. Severus never liked her tea set, it was too floral and delicate for his own taste. It was impossible to feel like there was any serious work being done when holding a tiny cup with pink flower patters on it. "Well," Minerva started. "I'm afraid you're going to have to go into hiding, Severus."

The teacup stopped just in front of his mouth. "Excuse me?" He lowered the cup when he realised it was muffling his words, and raised an eyebrow. "I hardly think that would be necessary." He put his cup on Minerva's ancient desk and she tutted at him and placed a napkin underneath it.

"You'll give the desk rings, Severus." She frowned at him and grew serious. Her fingers steepled in front of her, her elbows resting on the desk. "I do think it will be necessary." She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I am sorry, but the safety of the children in this school _cannot _be compromised. The students have been through enough, now is time for things to go back to normal again."

Severus bit the inside of his cheek. Minerva was his superior, both as Headmistress of the school, and as the head of the Order. On the inside, Severus thought that she was highly overreacting, but he could not question her orders. He very much doubted that a couple of rouge Death Eaters necessitated a stint in hiding. He rubbed his chin. "Who will you find to take over my classes?"

"I have already been in correspondence with Horace, and he has agreed to come back for the necessary time, but only for a large pay rise." Minerva huffed a breath, cheeks ballooning. "That man is one of the most greedy and gluttinous that I know, but he is the best for the job, after yourself, of course." She rubbed her hand across her brow. "I do hope you understand why I am doing this, Severus."

"I still think it an overreaction, Minerva." He replied, and the corners of his mouth twitched as she got agitated. "However, I do realise that the safety of the students is... _important_... and I recognise that you, as my superior, are free to dictate what I do." He knew he was being unfair and vindictive with that comment, but he was more than mildly annoyed at being uprooted over such a minor threat.

Minerva pursed her lips, looking like she'd had something unpleasant spread underneath her nose. "You will be leaving now," she took a quill from her drawer and began writing on the parchment laying on her desk. "There is no need to pack anything," his eyebrows rose in surprise, she was shipping him off tonight? And where was he going that he couldn't pack his books or clothes? "And, I'm afraid you are not going to like this part, Severus." His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Minerva..." his tone was warning.

"I'm afraid I'm going to need your wand." She sighed, and Severus' anger increased to dangerous levels. He could feel it bubbling under the surface of his skin like boiling water, red hot and dangerous.

"Would you like to explain to me, exactly _why I will not be able to bring my wand_?" he bit out between clenched teeth.

"You will be going to live in a Muggle home." Minerva replied calmly, looking over her glasses at him in a disturbingly similar way to how Albus used to.

A vein in Severus's temple throbbed to the beat of his temper. "You mean to tell me, that I will be going into hiding from Death Eaters, _without. My. Wand_?"

She puffed and rubbed her mouth. "You will be perfectly safe Severus, you are leaving the country," she supplied, "and no Death Eater would think to search for you in the Muggle world. You _will_ do this Severus." her face became hard, her tone turning to cold steel. "I will not be sending letters, but do not worry about being protected. You will be fine Severus."

"Where exactly am I going?" his anger deflated as he realised there was no winning this time. Minerva would take no compromise, and Severus's body seemed to sink further into the chair. He was annoyed, but defeated.

"Dublin, Ireland." she answered crisply. "I have a letter here, for the homeowner -" she gave him a stern look as she handed him the brown envelope. "- do not read it." He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"What gives you the impression that I would do such a thing, Minerva?" he teased smoothly. She smiled a thin-lipped smile and fished something out of her desk drawer.

"Only your manner, dear." he smirked, and she handed him another envelope. "This is your money, and this is the address." She shook his hand in reassurance as she handed him the last slip of paper with the address on it, the other two envelopes secure in his trouser pocket.

"How am I to get to this destination?" Severus queried, reading the address and examining the money she had given him.

"Floo through to 'Clancy's Pub, Dublin' and get one of those _tack-see_ _cars_ to take you to the address." she smiled at him reassuringly again. "Your wand, if you would."

Severus took the wand reluctantly from his pocket, but help it out of her reach when she went to take it. "What will you do with it?" he kept his face expressionless, but really it was worrying him to leave his wand behind.

"Don't worry, Severus." she pat him on the shoulder and he looked at her incredulously. "It's going behind Albus's portrait until you come back." he relented and handed her the wand and watched it as she opened the portrait of a sleeping Albus Dumbledore and locked it in a hidden hole behind it. "Hold on a moment."

He stopped moving towards the fireplace and drew back when he saaw her fingers reach for him. She scolded him; "I was just going to remove your frock coat, it looks decidedly _un_-Muggle."

He frowned and flattened his lips at her as if she was a small child that had just knocked over a glass of water, and began to unbutton his frock coat. Taking it over his shoulders, he left it on the back of the plush, wing-backed red chair he had just vacated. He shifted where he stood, only feeling more exposed as he lost another layer of protection. He felt that he didn't look all that Muggle in his black shirt with the high-necked collar and dragonhide boots anyway, what difference would the coat have made?

Reassuring himself that he had all envelopes and slips of paper secure in his pocket, he let Minerva pat him on the shoulder once more before he disappeared in a rush of green flames.

Severus stepped out of the dark car displaying the word "taxi" on an illuminated sign on the top, along with a list of numbers he did not know the significance for. He took out a £5 note with a nun on it to pay the driver, and told him to keep the change. Turning away from the moving car, Severus' admonished himself for his weak stomach. It had been nigh on two and a half decades since he had been in a car, and he certainly did not miss it. Obviously apparition and Floo had their dangers, btu he trusted fireplaces and his own magic infinitely more than a bald taxi-criver piloting a lump of welded metal fueled by dinosaurs.

He examined the building in front of him. it was a part of a surrounding apartment complexes, three floors. The sign outside displayed numbers 12 to 18, and Severus examined the piece of paper with the address on it again. Number 14, he needed. He frowned at the brick building; Severus had no idea what was the apartment building was laid out. Did 12 start at the top or the bottom? Left or right? He wasn't aware he looked lost until someone walked up to him.

Severus smelled the man coming before he saw him. Some sort of rancid body-spray that reminded him of what his mother would spray around the house if they had guests coming. Severus turned towards the sound of the footsteps and faced the man. He wore a blue jacket that looked to almost be made of plastic, and baggy, grey trousers, with assaultingly white shoes.

"Yer not lost, are ya?" he looked Severus up and down with amusement. "What tha fuck are ya wearin'? You one-a dem emos or sumn like dah?" he laughed to himself as if he'd made a brilliant joke, Severus sneered at him and was about to tell him exactly where to go when he began talking again. "You're probably lookin' for Milo's place, yeah? Number fourteen?" when he saw Severus nod hesitantly, a look of arrogant pride came over his greasy face. "Second floor, man. The one on de left."

"Thank you..." Severus said sarcastically and began to move towards the building. The greasy creature stopped him with a hand on Severus arm, and he pulled out of his reach with a sneer.

"You haven' goh a spare smoke, have yah?"

"No, unfortunately." the man nodded his head and gave Severus a piercing look as he walked away. Severus turned and made his way towards the building again, lips pursed in disgust at his surroundings. "Ungrateful prick." he heard distantly behind him.

The buildings were made of red brick, and as he came to the staircase in the middle of the building he noted an abundance of graffiti on the inside of the stairwell. He eyed the particular pieces of the male anatomy spotted here and there on the walls as he ascended the stairs with particular distaste.

He finished the stairs quickly, letting his long legs take them two at a time. As hesitant as he felt about being forced to stay with a total stranger (a _Muggle_stranger at that), he found that being on his own in the unfamiliar environment was making him tense. He had not succeeded in completely turning off his spy-senses, and everything he had learned from his experiences suggested that everything was wrong about his current situation.

Severus finally found himself in front of a peeling, grey door displaying the number fourteen. He fished the envelope with a letter and the money from his pocket and raised his hand to knock on the wood.

His hand stilled an inch from the door as he heard voices from the other side.

"_Milo?_" a male voice called. Severus gathered that he was definitely in front of the door the greasy Irishman had directed him towards earlier. He didn't know how this Milo person knew Minerva, but if she found them trustworthy, then at least a miniscule amount of Severus's worries were assuaged. He still had many reservations on how well this person was going to be able to hide him, and was more than doubtful of how well they could protect themselves (never mind him) from escaped Death Eaters. Severus resolved to wait outside the door and listen before knocking.

"_Peter, what do you want?_" One of Severus' eyebrows rose. So Milo was a woman, then? Severus began to wonder whether it was actually the Peter fellow that Minerva was aquainted with.

"_Will you sing me my song?_" Severus had to suppress a snort. He was becoming more and more doubtful of these two's competance by the minute.

"_No Peter, I'm in the middle of making your fuckin' sandwich._"

"_Milo pleeease,_" Severus sneered at the childish pleading. He had half a mind to turn around and live on the street instead; it almost seemed preferrable to whatever sort of place this was. However, he had no idea how long he was going to be in hiding, and this would obviously be where Minerva would come looking for him. Severus stayed quiet as "Peter" began to speak again. "_C'mooon, I'm sick!_"

He heard a feminine sigh over footsteps, then the sound of couch springs. Severus was about to knock when she began to sing. He paused to listen; the sound was pleasant and sweet. He began to listen with more attention when he realised there was an English accent.

"_Oh, Peter,_  
_Can I go back home?_  
_I flew here under false pretense_  
_I thought it would be fun,_  
_But the lost boys have all flown away_  
_And one of them's locked up._  
_I know I think you're still a child,_  
_But I couldn't give a fuck_  
_You're twenty-one._"

Severus's hand hit the door by accident, having stopped paying attention when he the girl start singing.

"_What was that?_" Peter.

"_The door, I think._" Severus heard couch springs again and readied himself, schooling his features into an intimidating expression, prepared to look down his nose at whoever answered the door. "_I'll go finish your sandwich, you get it._"

Couch springs once more, and the lock on the door began to jingle. Severus heard the "Ughhh" behind it as it opened.

Severus's eyebrows rose yet again at the person who opened the door. This was obviously Peter, but he was not the figure Severus was expecting. Peter matched Severus inch for inch in height, had dark hair, brown eyes, pale skin, and jewlery dangling from various facial features. The boy couldn't have been more than twenty.

Peter's eyebrows rose in surprise and looked him up and down. "Ehh, sorry, can I help you?"

Severus shoved the envelope at him and waited for the boy to open it. He took the letter and unfolded it. Eyebrows rising as he read. Severus regarded the strange appearance of the boy while he was busy. Noting the rings in his eyebrow, nose and lip, Severus also noticed that there were quite large holes in the boy's earlobes. He sneered again, finding the creature in front of him to be probably some sort of idiot.

Peter once again looked up at Severus, before calling out over his shoulder. "Milo, is' for you!" Turning back to Severus, he gestured for him to come inside. "So is your name Minerva then?" He looked at Severus suspiciously.

Severus near growled. Idiot, indeed. "It is not. My name is Severus Snape."

"Oh shite." The boy's mouth had fallen open in shock. "It is not." He shook his head in disbelief. "As in_Professor_ Severus Snape?"

Severus nodded. He heard the girl shout out from the kitchen. "Peter, ask whoever it is if they want tea."

"Milo, I think you'd better get out here."

"I'll be out in a moment."

"No, really, Professor Snape is here."

Severus's skin jumped at the sound of smashing porcelain.

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_**So, how was this chapter? Props to anyone who realised who Milo was.**_

_**"Milo" is pronounced My-Low just in case anyone was wondering. Also, if anyone has any urges to find out exactly what these people sound like in real life, I suggest watching the movie "Adam and Paul" (I'm sure you can find it online). It's set in Dublin around the same areas that this story will be set in.**_

_**The title and the song lyrics are from "Peter" by Daughter. If you want something to model Milo's voice off of, Elena Tonra is who I had in mind while I was writing.**_

_**Thank you so much for your reviews by the way! A special thanks to Shorty653 who pointed out a mistake for me in the Prologue that I have since corrected. Please do me the favour of reviewing again! Thank you.**_


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N:**

_I'm sorrry for all the messing about with abandoning it and then bringing it back on a new account. I hope no-one minds and I promise that I'm going t try as much as possible to keep writing new chapters._

**_This fic is rated M for violence, swearing (a LOT of swearing), touchy subjects including domestic abuse, miscarriages, attempted suicide and self mutilation. You have been warned. This is not a cheery fic, and I beg you to remember that as we go on. Thank you._**

**I do not own any characters who's names are recognised from the Harry Potter series. I do, however, own some of my own. I do not profit from writing this fanfiction, so don't go suing me like an asshole.**

* * *

"Eh... Peter, can you come here for a minute?"

Severus heard Milo call to Peter from the kitchen. It would be an understatement to say he was confused. It was obvious this Milo knew who he was, and was not expecting him, but he had no recollection of ever meeting her. He had half a mind to just walk into the kitchen, but he was sure that would just result in more broken crockery.

Severus hadn't noticed the dog. There was a very large German Shepherd staring at him from one of the couches. He was a large, brown and black thing and was eyeing Severus with a lot of judgement. Severus could tell the dog didn't like him. He was terrible with animals.

Peter walked to the door, glancing back wearily at the strange, dark, imposing figure of Severus. He heard hushed voices and arguing coming from the kitchen. There was the scraping noise of the mess being cleared and a shrill "Get the fuck back out there!" before Peter came back into the living room. The letter from Minerva was missing from his hand.

"Ugh, sit, please. Milo's making tea now." There were two yellow couches in the middle of the room, one either side of a brown coffee table. There was a fireplace in the middle of the left wall, across from one end of the coffee table, but it was not lit. Severus was used to the cold. He sat down on the couch to his left, the one nearest the door, and was extremely surprised when he sunk so far into the couch that he thought it might swallow him. Peter winced. "Oh yeah, sorry man, the couches are comfortable and all, but you're not gonna be able to get your arse out of that one without some help. I should have offered you my seat, there's still springs in this one." Peter sat down beside the dog, wrapping his arm around its neck and rubbing its chest.

Sinking bottom aside, Severus was happy enough with his seat. From here he could see all the doors in the room. The kitchen door was directly across from him, beside that another one, and on the wall to the right there were two more. If he turned his head back over his right shoulder he had a perfectly clear view of the front door that he came in by. Old habits die hard, and the ones left from his spying days probably would not die at all.

"I've introduced myself, now who are you?" Severus drawled easily, and frowned at the Peter boy. The dog growled a little.

"Peter McMahon, I live here with Milo."

"And who exactly is Milo?" Severus was beginning to get impatient. This girl was supposed to be the one protecting him and he still had no idea who she was. Peter looked back over his shoulder at the kitchen, shifting in his seat.

"I think I'll leave that to her."

Just as he finished, the mysterious Milo appeared in the kitchen door-frame.

Holding a cup of tea in each hand, she approached Severus and Peter. She was extremely thin, with chin length bushy purple hair. Like Peter, she had rings hanging from her eyebrow and nose, some kind of a stud in her lip and many hanging from both of her ears. Severus didn't have a slight idea how this girl knew of Minerva or himself. Her hands shook as she set the mugs down on the table. No napkins. Minerva would have a fit.

"Um, hi." The girl spoke timidly, with a slight English accent under the Irish lilt, and folded her hands in her lap and sat on the couch beside Peter, reaching over to rub the dog on the head, and not sinking into the couch. Severus felt slightly embarrassed and tried to sit forward but struggled against the soft pillows and the angle he was sitting in, and with a flushed face finally managed to perch himself on the edge with little dignity left. He looked at the girl and raised his eyebrow.

"And you are?"

She frowned back at him, the ring in her eyebrow shifted.

"You don't recognise me?"

He snorted. "Obviously not or I would not have asked." he bit out sarcastically.

She sighed and didn't look him in the eye. She took a deep shuddering breath before answering.

"I'm Hermione Granger, Professor."

Severus barked out a short laugh.

"Don't be ridiculous, the girl is dead. I do not have time for games, now who are you really?"

She looked him in the eyes and drew her purple hair back out of her face. It was her. Jumping up from the couch, his lip drew back over crooked teeth and he snarled.

Severus was livid.

"How. Dare. You. You. Stupid. Little. Girl." his anger was threatening to burst from him. The dog was suddenly very alert, and growled low in his throat, keeping his eyes on Severus the whole time. Peter and Hermione stood up together, the boy taking a stance slightly in front of her, but she pushed him to the side and met Severus's eyes bravely. "You impertinent little chit, the whole wizarding world believes you to be dead, there was time and resources wasted looking for you, Potter and the Weasleys were beside themselves with grief. _How dare you. _And how dare Minerva keep it a secret-"

"Professor, shut the fuck up."

Severus's eyes narrowed and his jaw bit down hard on the inside of his cheeks, he was about to explode when she began to speak.

"I'm glad they think I'm dead, that was the point." she sighed and sat back down again. Both Peter and Severus remained standing. "I did something awful, and I had to run away. I couldn't stay, not after..." she shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment.

Severus narrowed his eyes at her. "What exactly," he accused "Could you have done to justify wasting my time and effort along with the effort of Aurors, ministry officials and your _friends_." He spat the last word with contempt.

"I killed someone."

Severus's eyes widened and he sat back down. Peter did not look surprised at all, but also sat after seeing Severus back down.

Hermione brushed her hair behind her ear and sighed again. "A Death Eater tried to kill me when I was bringing you back to the castle." Severus grinded his teeth, he didn't like being reminded of his debt to her. "I cast the Avada Kadavra and killed him before he killed me. Then, I broke my wand in two and ran."

Severus was shocked. "To break your own wand... that is extremely Dark Magic. We could not find your signature after the Final Battle."

Hermione nodded. "I know. I forfeited my own magic. I'm just about a Muggle now. Or maybe a Squib."

Severus was beginning to understand. In reaction to having killed someone, she forfeited her magic, and to avoid being an outcast from wizarding society, and because of the shame, she ran away and pretended to be dead.

"How exactly did you convince Minerva to help you in this mess?"

"I told her I'd owe her a life debt if she did." She pointed her hand flat towards him. "And now, she's having me repay it." Hermione stood up, and walked to the fire, taking a lighter out of her pocket, she set the corner of Minerva's letter on fire and threw it in the grate. Severus caught the words "debt repayed" in Minerva's round calligraphic writing before the paper was engulfed in flames.

Hermione sat back down beside Peter again, and he rubbed her arm in sympathy. "Are you okay?"

"No," she replied, "I feel really weak."

Severus perked up at this and laughed internally. "Sorry," he said sarcastically, "That's my fault. Having forfeited your magic, being around a magical person will make you feel ill. My apologies." He smirked nastily at her. It serves her right for what she did. Severus was, however, still extremely shocked. To forfeit your own magic is a very Dark process, and hurts worse than having a limb amputated by Devil's Snare. It was something every magical child was taught from a young age: never, ever, break your own wand.

Severus picked up the cup of tea from the coffee table. Sipping it, he realised there was no sugar, or milk. She had assumed he took it without. He was not about to admit that usually he would take it with three sugars. This was probably better for his teeth anyway. Peter sipped his own tea and Hermione just sat there, staring at the rings on the coffee table.

"Did Minerva give you anything else for me?"

Severus reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope with money in it, and threw it across the table at her. He was still angry.

Hermione fingered it open and counted out the money. "Two-hundred? Is that it? I hope she doesn't think you'll be staying for long, that'll barely get you any muggle clothing, nevermind all the extra food I'm going to have to buy!" She pinched the bride of her nose and scrunched her eyes up in pain. "I'm getting a headache."

Severus sneered nastily at her, she was being ridiculous. He was the one that should be getting a headache, shocked and appalled that this girl had faked her own death. If they had have still been in school Severus would have given her detention every day for months. But they weren't in school, and he couldn't do that.

"I have no idea what to do." She looked to Peter for help. He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "Ok whatever, Professor, finish your tea, I'm going to go play the piano."

One of Severus's eyebrows raised.

Hermione walked off into a door to Severus' right and disappeared inside, slamming it shut behind her.

Severus heard sharp chords on the piano, and across from him on the other couch, Peter winced and rubbed the dog's ear. "She only plays this song when she's angry." Hermione's voice floated through the gaps in the door, and there was a significant amount of bite in her notes.

_"My friend has problems with winter and autumn  
They give him prescriptions  
They shine bright lights on him  
They say it's genetic  
They say he can't help it  
They say you can catch it  
But sometimes your born with it-"_

He was almost impressed. He could hear how easily she played the piano, not once stopping at a slip up and he could pick out no off-notes, although he didn't know much about music at all, and her voice was clear and pretty, although the acid it contained as she sang this particular tune was throwing her off slightly. This was obviously what she needed to do to vent. Severus continued to sip his tea and calm his blood.

"_My friend has blight  
he gets shakes in the night  
and they say that there's no way  
that they could have caught it in  
time takes his toll on him, it is traditional  
it is inherited predisposition-"_

Not once through all of these lines of music had Severus heard her pause to take a breath, and a part of him was actually quite worried for her. Peter seemed to be too; he shifted uneasily in his chair, and kept moving as if to stand up but never did. After another few seconds of humming and hawing about it he finally got up from the couch and approached the door, knocking tentatively.

There was a loud _clang_ of wrong notes and a loud "WHAT?" was shouted through the door.

"Jesus Christ Milo calm down and come out here will ya, we'll just talk it out. No need to break the piano."

Severus definitely didn't want to do any sort of "talking out", and he let his displeasure show on his face. Peter looked at him awkwardly before the door opened and Hermione showed herself, flushed and angry. She took several elephant-footed steps to the couch and sat down with so much force that for a moment Severus thought she may go through the floor.

"Well then, let's talk." she huffed as Peter situated himself beside her. She crossed her arms over her chest and winced a little, and shook Peter's hand off of her knee.

"I have not the slightest idea what to talk about." Severus said plainly. He leaned forward to put his mug on the table.

Hermione shifted for a while before speaking. "How are they?"

Severus did not need her to clarify who she meant.

"They are alive. Potter married the Weasley girl last summer, and I've heard from Minerva that they are expecting their first brat. Weasley is still a bachelor, working as a sub for the Chudley Cannons. None of them returned to school. Lovegood and Longbottom did however."

Hermione got slightly teary at the mention of the Weasley girl and Potter's pregnancy. Severus felt suddenly deflated. He realised and felt a certain amount of shame, that he didn't want to see her cry. He didn't have it in him anymore to be spiteful.

"You should come back, Miss Granger." His voice was low, and could almost have been mistaken as kind.

Hermione shook her head, fluttering her eyelids to make the tears fade away.

"I can't, and please, don't call me Miss Granger."

"What would you have me call you then?"

"Hermione is fine, if you can't make yourself call me Milo."

Severus nodded, and wondered how her name would feel on his tongue.

"Very well... Hermione." It was sweet, and it felt very right. He liked it.

"Can I call you Severus?" She asked him, looking hopefull.

Severus nodded.

"Okay, Severus." His name rolled off her tongue like syrup and in that moment all he wanted was to hear her whisper it into his ear. Most of the time he had spent thinking about this girl had been wondering where she was and how he could find her, but there was a decent amount of time dedicated to wondering about the more sensual things. How her cheek would feel under his lips, what her hair smells like, how she would sound in the throws of passion with him.

Truthfully, Severus was a virgin. He had spent much of his life too obsessed with Lily Potter to ever find himself a _partner _in his teenage years. And once he became a Death eater, the only women who were willing to sleep with him were Knockturn Alley whores and Severus just couldn't find it in himself to do it. It wasn't how he wanted it. So a virgin he remained. He wasn't totally sexually oblivious, there were times, usually on his birthday, where Lucius Malfoy would pay for a whore to pleasure him with her mouth, and Severus couldn't refuse because he had to keep up the act of being just a lecherous as Lucius. Thankfully, Lucius was cheap and would never pay for anything more than a blowjob. Severus was sure he would remain a virgin forever, because the only two women he ever thought of having sex with wouldn't give him the time of night.

He realised suddenly that he had been staring at Hermione for far too long. He shifted in his seat and looked into the fireless fireplace. He felt awkward and out of place in such a home, with the girl he was infatuated with (and her boyfriend?).

Hermione turned to Peter. "Peter, will you do me a favour?"

"Sure Milo."

"Will you play The Unforgiven for Severus?"

Peter raised an eyebrow, and Severus looked back at the two of them when he heard his name.

"Well, okay, but why?"

"Oh you know why. I'm going to go in my bedroom, Peter you can sleep in with me tonight, give Severus your bed."

"I wouldn't want to put anyone out-" Severus tried to be polite. They obviously weren't together then, if they were sleeping in separate beds.

"No, honestly it's fine, we do this all the time." Hermion waved her hand nonchalantly at him, and walked off back into the room she had played the piano in. She came back out with a guitar in hand, handed it to Peter, and disappeared again.

Peter coughed awkwardly and settles the guitar in his lap. He looked as if he was going to say something, but decided against it, and began to play.

His fingers plucked the guitar skillfully. He got a far away look in his eyes, they settled somewhere in the back left of the room, and never left that spot.

_"New blood joins this earth_  
_And quickly he's subdued_  
_Through constant pained disgrace_  
_The young boy learns their rules_

_With time the child draws in_  
_This whipping boy done wrong_  
_Deprived of all his thoughts_  
_The young man struggles on and on he's known_  
_A vow unto his own_  
_That never from this day_  
_His will they'll take away_

_What I've felt_  
_What I've known_  
_Never shined through in what I've shown_  
_Never be_  
_Never see_  
_Won't see what might have been_  
_What I've felt_  
_What I've known_  
_Never shined through in what I've shown_  
_Never free_  
_Never me_  
_So I dub thee unforgiven_

_They dedicate their lives_  
_To running all of his_  
_He tries to please them all_  
_This bitter man he is_  
_Throughout his life the same_  
_He's battled constantly_  
_This fight he cannot win_  
_A tired man they see no longer cares_  
_The old man then prepares_  
_To die regretfully_  
_That old man here is me_

_What I've felt_  
_What I've known_  
_Never shined through in what I've shown_  
_Never be_  
_Never see_  
_Won't see what might have been_  
_What I've felt_  
_What I've known_  
_Never shined through in what I've shown_  
_Never free_  
_Never me_  
_So I dub thee unforgiven_

_What I've felt_  
_What I've known_  
_Never shined through in what I've shown_  
_Never be_  
_Never see_  
_Won't see what might have been_  
_What I've felt_  
_What I've known_  
_Never shined through in what I've shown_  
_Never free_  
_Never me_  
_So I dub thee unforgiven."_

Severus sat back in the chair. His mind was spinning. The song sounded as if it could have been written for him. Peter coughed again and looked at him.

"I'm sorry, Severus."

Severus wasn't sure he was okay with Peter using his given name, but he supposed he'd never been his professor, and had no right to make him use the title.

"Why are you sorry?"

"That's your song."

Severus was confused.

"What do you mean?"

Peter shifted in his seat and avoided eye contact.

"Milo, she uh, she has a song for everybody. Everyone. The song describes them, their lives, what they're like. And I'm just sorry that that's yours."

Peter shook his head sadly, and walked towards Hermione's room. "The other door to the left of this one is my bedroom, feel free to use whatever you want."

With that he went inside, and the dog followed him.

* * *

**Well what do you think? Let me know in the reviews. I know it's probably not as great because I'm trying to push through writer's block and it's just not going to be great. **

**The songs in this chapter in order are Runs in the Family by Amanda Palmer and The Unforgiven by Metallica.**


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N:**

_I'm sorry about how short the last chapter was I was trying to overcome some writer's block while writing it and I just wanted to get anything at all out._

_**This fic is rated M for violence, swearing (a LOT of swearing), touchy subjects including domestic abuse, miscarriages, attempted suicide and self mutilation. You have been warned. This is not a cheery fic and I beg you to remember that as we go on. Thank you.**_

**I do not own any characters whose names are recognised from the Harry Potter series. I do, however, own some of my own. I do not profit from writing this fanfiction, so don't go suing me like an asshole.**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Severus woke with a twinge of pain in his neck. He'd slept in Peter's bed and it was much softer than his four-poster in Hogwarts, and the pillows were too thick, reminding Severus of over-sized marshmallows. He lay for a while, debating whether or not to actually get up. He wasn't looking forward to starting this day. It was impossible to stop thinking about the song Peter had played him the night before. His song. The song Hermione associated with him. It was almost sweet, in a way, that she'd given so much thought to him as to be able to find a song that so perfectly described himself and his life. Severus also, however, was extremely annoyed at her audacity to assume she knew him so well. She did, but still. He had every reason to be annoyed with her.

He was wrenched from his train of thought suddenly as the bedroom door burst open, and Peter's head appeared.

"D'you want toast?"

Severus looked at him, narrowed eyes and pursed lips. He didn't like being woken up. Even if he was already awake, he still found that Peter was being rude and intrusive.

"You have to go to work with Milo, so do you want toast for breakfast? Jam or orange marmalade?"

"I will do no such thing."

"Mate, you have to. That letter you gave her yesterday says she has to stay with you at all times. And she works. Therefore, you've gotta fucking go to work."

"Fine, I'll have toast. Butter."

"No butter in this house, man." Peter laughed.

"Why not?" Severus asked, raising his eyebrows quizzically at him. He had swung his legs out of bed, and he could see Peter snickering at him. Severus had brought no clothes with him, and so had slept in his shirt and trousers, refusing to sleep in his underwear. His attire was creased and had left marks in the skin of his hands, and he could feel the waistband of his trousers biting into his hips.

"Y'know, you could've borrowed some of my pyjamas, you don't have to ask or anything."

"I'd rather not." Severus drawled. "So, why no butter?"

"Me and Milo are vegan pal. So there's none of those animal products in this house. And unfortunately for you, you won't be having any while you're here either."

"We'll see about that." Severus huffed, standing up and straightening out his sleeves and trousers with smart fingers. Peter laughed, openly and with gaiety.

"I wouldn't even try to argue with Milo about that, pal. You're not gonna fuckin' win, hahaha."

Severus smirked. "We shall see."

He followed Peter out of the bedroom. There was noise coming from the bathroom, running water and humming.

"Milo's taking a shower now but she'll leave enough for you to go in after her. Your hair definitely needs a go."

Severus ran his fingers through his hair self consciously. He had heard quite well the things that people had said about his hair over the years, it would be difficult not to. He knew it was greasy, he couldn't help it. Merlin knows how hard he'd tried over the first few year of his employment at Hogwarts to do something about it. No matter how often he washed it, within hours it was greasy all over again. He had thought about developing a potion for the problem, but his dignity wouldn't let him. He couldn't make himself dedicate time and research to such a vain endeavour.

There had been a question on Severus's mind since he arrived the night before.

"So you know all about Hermione's magical background." He phrased it as a statement, but it was a question.

Peter nodded. "I know everything about everything, war and all." His face turned solemn. "Two years ago she arrived in absolute pieces, half-dead on my doorstep and spilled everything."

Severus frowned. "Why did she go to you?"

Peter swallowed the toast in his mouth, and began making Severus's. Busying himself with the toast-making process, he answered distractedly. "We're childhood friend. She used to live around where I did when she was young, and every summer she'd come back to stay with her granddad for a month. He's my neighbour," Peter explained, taking another bite of toast, and through a full mouth continued. "This was when I still lived with my parents, before the accident."

Severus thought he shouldn't ask.

"And what was your reaction?"

"Well, it wasn't a good one anyway." Peter laughed. "I nearly brought her to the psych ward, raving about wizards and dictators with no noses. But there was just something in her eyes, I just knew she was telling the truth. And now I have proof." He pointed his toast at Severus.

There was a clock on the wall of the kitchen that read 7:05 am. James handed Severus his toast, and he began eating. He assumed Hermione must have a nine-to-five job. How unremarkable. She could have been so great in the magical community. Probably, she could still be a great figure, if not a great witch. She wouldn't need a wand to be a spokesperson or a politician. As much as Severus thought all politicians were bollixes, he had to concede that there was plenty of good that Hermione could do in their position. He had heard all about her SPEW campaign, and he even had admiration for her caring personality. Severus did a double take inwardly. Good Merlin he was going soft.

"So what about you, Severus? Hermione told me you were her potions teacher and about how she saved your life, but otherwise I know nothing about you."

Severus chewed for a bit and spoke around the toast. "There isn't much to tell, but what there is is very personal."

Peter nodded knowingly and let him sidestep the question. Severus was thankful for that.

The water in the shower turned off and Severus decided to approach the bathroom. The door was open a crack so he assumed it wasn't occupied and opened the door.

There Hermione was in all her glory in nothing but a towel, in front of the mirror and sink, brushing her teeth. She hadn't noticed Severus opened the door, and he took this opportunity to study her. He was surprised with what he saw. She was thin, _too thin_, there was a skeletal quality to her body. He could see the outline of her hipbones through the towel, her collarbones stuck out almost grotesquely and her ribs were defined throughout the majority of her chest and back. There were scars too, many of them. Her left side was towards him, and he saw the "Mudblood" that Bellatix had left her with, still unhealed on her left forearm. It would never heal, such was the curse left on the knife Bellatrix had used. Her legs were littered with thick purple scars; in such a pattern that Severus could tell they were self-inflicted. He didn't know what to think of them. Some were fresher than others, some completely healed and pink, and others red and scabbed, raw and painful looking. The gash across her chest that she received in a fight with Dolohov was also unhealed, the Dark Magic leaving it scabbed and seeping. Severus was sure there was no cure, as he had been the one to treat her after the battle in the Ministry of Magic.

Severus trailed his eyes up her body slowly, and followed a water droplet down her neck to a place that he was ashamed to say he'd dreamed of touching. He could not deny his attraction to the girl, and his obsession with her. When she noticed him, she didn't start or scream as he would have expected. She wasn't even angry, and didn't try to cover herself at all. She spat out her toothpaste and turned to face him.

"Ready for work today, Severus?"

"No." He leaned against the door frame and watched her. He enjoyed the way his name sounded in her mouth. She began applying makeup. The process was quite fascinating, and Severus was enthralled with the movement of her various brushes and powders and liquids. Slowly what blemishes and freckles she sported slowly disappeared, the powder she applied to her eyelids gave such a strong definition to her eyes. He found her absolutely beautiful when she was fresh-faced, but there was something about the way in which she made herself up, that it reminded him almost of a piece of art. She was an oil painting of a woman.

"I'll be out in a second." She wiped some excess lipstick off, totally unembarrassed by his staring. "Peter likes to watch me do my makeup too, says it's strange what a difference it makes to my face. He finds it interesting."

"The process is quite different." Severus drawled. "Take your time." He meant it. He could watch her do this for hours.

She towel-dried her hair when her makeup was finished, and pulled it back out of her face with clips. It fell back from her face to the back of her head in lank, damp and wavy sections. She walked past him smiling, but grabbed the bridge of her nose when she came close, exclaiming a small noise of pain.

Severus frowned and took a step back from her. "My apologies, Hermione. My magic still seems to be having negative effects on you."

She nodded, eyes closed and walked on towards her bedroom. Severus went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, using the key to lock it.

"Don't lock the bathroom door!" he heard Hermione call.

"Why?" He replied through the door.

"Because if you trip and fall, no-one will be able to get in and help you." Severus thought she was being ridiculous but unlocked the door anyway.

Her bathroom was quaint, walls pale blue and all tasteful cream porcelain. The shower curtain, however, was ridiculous. It had small orange ducks all over it. Severus ran the shower until it was the right temperature and stripped off, checking himself in the mirror. He was an unattractive man, or at least he thought so. His hair was stringy and greasy, his nose much too large, his lips much too thin, his body littered with scars, burn marks and all sorts. He admitted to himself that maybe the scars might not be so bad, because he found that Hermione's didn't turn him off her beauty in the slightest. But the scars wrapping his throat were really unsightly, a dark angry purple and jagged.

Under the warm spray of the shower, Severus felt more relaxed than he had in a while. Not knowing for sure whether Hermione was alive or dead put so much strain and weight on his shoulders, which was now lifted. There was no more Dark Lord, and he had finally found the girl. Severus couldn't even find the will to worry about the escaped Death Eaters. If anything, he would almost like to thank them for putting him in the position to be with Hermione.

While his thoughts strayed to Hermione, his hands wandered slowly down his body. To thoughts of her, her body covered in nothing but a towel, the trails of water leading down her calves, he pleasured himself thoroughly in the shower, whispering her name like a prayer as he reached his climax.

Suddenly, someone threw the door of the bathroom open. Severus jumped and wrapped his lower half in the shower curtain. There was a man in the bathroom, about Severus' height with black hair and brown eyes.

"Sorry mate, I was desperate for a piss, I'll only be a second." The man unzipped his fly and began to relieve himself.

"Could you really not have waited?" Severus asked, anger colouring his voice, trying desperately to cover his embarrassment.

"Nah man, I was about to burst, sorry about that." He shook himself off and re-zipped his pants. "There all done. He flushed the toilet, and walked back out of the bathroom, closing the door on an embarrassed Severus.

Ten minutes later Severus sat in the living room, feeling like the shower wasn't worth it. The dog had decided that he was trustworthy after all and sat himself in Severus' lap, looking for attention. Severus' lanky frame didn't have the strength in him to bodily move the dog, and so he let him shed hair all over his well-worn clothes. He hadn't found a bar of soap in the shower to wash himself with, and he was too wary of the fruity products in bottles. They were something he was not willing to explore. So really, Severus hadn't cleaned himself, instead had just rinsed and wanked.

There were four people in the living room. Hermione, Peter, Severus and the man that had thoroughly embarrassed Severus in the bathroom not ten minutes earlier. He had learned that this man's name was James, and that he was Hermione's boyfriend of two months. It just figures, that in Severus' life he would have feelings for two girls who were involved with James's.

Hermione had taken out her many piercings and put what looked like clear, plastic jewellery in instead.

"You guys ready to go?" James clapped his hands together.

Hermione and Severus both stood up. The dog slid slowly to the other side of the couch from Severus's knee. Hermione was dressed in a white blouse and black slacks, looking professional. James was going to be driving them to work. Hermione worked in a restaurant fifteen minutes away, and James was unemployed but had a car, so he volunteered to take Hermione to work every weekday morning.

Severus was wary of the vehicle. The front left door was concaved and the car looked particularly beaten up and scratched. Severus hated all muggle vehicles, and he didn't feel at all secure about getting into this one. However, he pulled himself into the back seat anyway, securing his seat belt as if it was the only thing keeping him from a deathly experience. And it just might have been. Hermione got in the drivers side door, manoeuvring herself through the car and into the passenger's seat, near impaling herself on the gear stick.

"So- Severus, right?" James asked as he pulled the car out of the parking space and set off. Severus nodded. He was looking in the rear-view mirror. James wasn't an unattractive man, he had pale skin, deep brown eyes and dark hair that was just slightly longer that Severus's. Severus didn't like him. He had no reasoning behind it, but Severus always trusted his gut instincts, and something felt extremely off about this man. "Why are you staying with Milo?" Severus met Hermione's eyes in the mirror. They hadn't discussed this.

"I told you not to ask him that." Hermione elbowed James and gave him an angry stare.

"Yeah whatever, I was just wondering why there's a strange man staying in my girlfriend's house."

"James honestly I told you this morning there's nothing going on, he just needs a place to stay-"

"Yeah but how am I supposed to know that for sure? For all I know you could be bloody well shacking up with him! Where's he sleeping?"

"Peter's room, honestly James please-"

"No, just leave it, it's fine." James shook his head and Severus narrowed his eyes at the back of his head.

The rest of the car drive was spent in silence, and they drove through the twisting roads of the city, meandering through traffic and pedestrians. They stopped outside a restaurant called La Scala, an Italian place with a pleasant aroma wafting through the front door. The building was a subdued dark brown colour, and though it wasn't large the place had a good presence.

They got out of the car, and James drove off quickly, without saying goodbye to Hermione. Her eyes were slightly rimmed with red when Severus looked at her. He felt awkward around upset women, and just tried to keep the conversation as normal and far away from the incident in the car.

"Does this place serve breakfast?"

Hermione laughed and wiped at her eyes a little bit. "Yeah they do. Come on, I'm nearly late."

They both walked in the door and a man who must have been Hermione's manager approached them.

"Milo, you're much less early than usual. And you have brought a customer!" He spread his arms in welcome. He was short and pudgy; he was easily sixty years old, giving him the look of a friendly uncle.

"Actually Jerry, this is my friend Severus..." She approached the man and whispered something in his ear.

He nodded his head slowly and exclaimed "Ah, I see!" He turned to Severus and grabbed him by the elbow. "Come with me my lad." Severus had nothing to say and in confusion let himself be dragged down a corridor to the left of the maitre d's counter. "We'll just put you back here in my office, I'm going to be mostly in the kitchen so I don't mind, not at all." Jerry steered him into a doorway and put him behind a dark wood desk, and stuck a book in his hand. Severus sneered at him and tried to look intimidating, but the man pat him on the head and left.

To say Severus was confused was an understatement, but there was not much he could do until Hermione was finished work, so he took a look at the book in his hands. It was called To Kill a Mockingbird, and reading the blurb on the back, Severus found it to not sound like it was vapid fiction, so he began to read.

* * *

Jerry interrupted him only twice while Severus relaxed behind his desk, and no-one else entered the room at all. When Jerry did come in, he gave Severus a friendly smile, and to his embarrassment, waved.

Hermione came in to get him when the clock said twelve p.m. She smiled at him nicely, but Severus just frowned in reply.

"I've got my lunch break now, so let's go get something to eat. I know a lovely vegan restaurant around the corner."

"What _exactly_ did you say to that man to have him behave so outrageously towards me?" Severus spat angrily at her.

The corner of Hermione's eyes pinched together nervously. "I-I might have told him you were a bit special."

"_Special_."

"Well it was the only way I was going to get him to let you stay, but in all fairness you kept it convincing, he asked me whether you could even talk." She laughed lightly at him. "let's go get lunch."

Severus went with her in the end, and they bantered lightly. She asked him how he was finding the book. He admitted to having only read the first half so far, but he found it more interesting than he'd dare to admit. He wasn't usually one for reading fiction, but he thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to pick up a new pastime while he was staying with Hermione. He was going to need something to do.

"Did you ask Jerry if you could keep that?"

"No, but I do not think he will say something if the _special_ man just happens to walk home with it."

She laughed again. He loved hearing her laugh; it was twinkling like bells ringing in the start of something new and fresh. "Very fuckin' true, Severus."

Severus frowned at her. "Where did you pick up thjis habit of cursing?"

Hermione smiled at him sheepishly. "Well I suppose it's mostly Peter's fault. There's only so much time I could spend around him, as well as the rest of my friends without picking it up. It just turns into a slip of the tongue after a while really, it comes as naturally as saying the word 'and' now. It's just something to fill the space in between words, or put a little emphasis on something."

#Severus nodded, taking another bite out of his falafel. It was a strange piece of food, but he was enjoying it nonetheless.

It was five more hours of not talking in Jerry's office before they both got to go home. James didn't show up to collect Hermione, and though she didn't show it, Severus could tell she was upset. They took a long walk home.

"We're going out later."

"What?"

"It's Saoirse's birthday, and we're all going out. So you'll have to come with me."

"Can you not stay home?"

"She's one of my best friends, I can't miss her birthday. Plus it might be good for you to get out. Let your hair down."

"My hair is down."

"Oh you know what I mean." She pulled a box out of her pocket, and extracted a cigarette.

"You smoke? My, my Miss Granger, what have you turned into."

"I've told you not to call me that." She lit one and took a long drag, then pointed the box towards him. "Do you want one."

Severus hadn't smoked since his early teenage years, but he accepted the offer, lit his own cigarette and took a drag. It burned more than it used to, but he still liked the feeling of the smoke filling his lungs. It was therapeutic, in a way.

* * *

"I think it's about time we got you some other clothes, Severus."

Severus was feeling particularly un-fresh at that point, and agreed quickly. They stopped in a place called Penney's, and got him an assortment of black jeans, jumpers, t-shirts and even pyjamas. Hermione picked out everything, but Severus made the final decision, wanting things that were tasteful but also comfortable. He wasn't so sure about the t-shirts, knowing that they would show off his scarred neck, but he could deal with stares and questions should it come to it. Severus picked out his underwear and socks himself.

They got home, and both changed before Hermione's friends would show up to collect the both of them and bring them out.

When Severus saw her, his jaw nearly dropped, but he managed to control himself with difficulty. Hermione had dark smoking eyes, her piercings had all been changed from the clear plastic to dark metal, and while Severus wasn't a massive fan of piercings, he could see the edge they gave to her face, and she was strikingly beautiful. She wore a black dress with lace sleeves, and it was short enough that it was almost scandalous, but she wore dark tights underneath it. Severus realised that, like him, she probably didn't want to flaunt her scars.

Hermione's friends showed up just after seven, and they had obviously all heard the news that Severus was staying with her, because they introduced themselves when they came in.

There was Saoirse, Ella and Mark, as well as James and Peter, who had both been out. All of the girls had strange coloured hair, Saoirse's being a silver colour and Ella's a bright red, and both the girls and men had piercings, apart from James. They were obviously a clique, and Severus found it hard not to sneer at the group mentality.

Severus kept himself out of the way while they all chatted and had some pre-drinks. Apparently, according to Peter, drinks in nightclubs were expensive, and it was cheaper to be sort-of pissed before leaving for a night out.

The drive was cramped, as there was one car with seven people, and both Severus and Peter spent the car ride with Saoirse and Ella in their laps. Severus had Ella in his, and he could tell very well that she had been flirting with him all evening. She refused to sit on Marks lap and instead took his, and seemed to be shifting around a lot, on purpose. Unfortunately, Severus felt too uncomfortable to return any of her attentions.

The nightclub was stuffy and pheromone filled. The music was loud and the room was dark, and Severus was not enjoying himself. He sat himself by the bar, and watched jealously as Hermione danced sexually with James. She grinded on him and put her arm behind her to grab his neck, and he had his hand on her hips, her backside situated right in between his legs. She dropped to the floor and shimmied back up again, her movements fluid and practiced. Severus ordered himself another drink. Hermione had given him a budget to spend on himself for the night, and if this was what he had to watch, he did not feel bad using it.

At one point a couple of hours into the night, he dragged himself to the bathroom to relieve himself. There was a hall before the bathrooms in the nightclub, and in that hall were Hermione and Saoirse. Hermione had a welt under her eye, and she was sitting and crying on the floor.

"No honestly I'm, fine Saoirse, I just fell over, it's just really sore."

Saoirse looked at her, unconvinced. "Really? Are you sure you're okay Milo..."

"Yes really, I'm fine, go back out and enjoy your birthday."

Saoirse looked behind her and saw Severus, and smiled at Hermione sadly before going back past him into the nightclub again.

Severus went to Hermione and slid down on the floor beside her.

"I'm sorry Severus, you're having a terrible night."

"The drinks are good, the night is not very terrible." Severus looked at her. "The music is awful."

Hermione laughed through her tears and wiped the back of her hand over her nose. "It really is isn't it."

She leaned against him and put her head on his shoulder. She began to sing, and Severus, in his drunken stupor, leaned his head against hers to listen.

"_Come on skinny love just last the year,__  
__Pour a little salt we were never here,__  
__My my my, my my my, my-my my-my...__  
__Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer."_

Severus loved her voice. It had an ethereal quality, totally enrapturing and contained any heart breaking emotion Severus had ever felt in his life. He didn't know what he was doing, sitting here on the floor just listening to her sing, but he wasn't about to move.

_"Tell my love to wreck it all,__  
__Cut out all the ropes and let me fall,__  
__My my my, my my my, my-my my-my...__  
__Right in the moment this order's tall.__  
_  
_And I told you to be patient,__  
__And I told you to be fine,__  
__And I told you to be balanced,__  
__And I told you to be kind,__  
__And in the morning I'll be with you,__  
__But it will be a different kind,__  
__'Cause I'll be holding all the tickets,__  
__And you'll be owning all the fines._

_Come on skinny love, what happened here?__  
__Suckle on the hope in light brassieres,__  
__My my my, my my my, my-my my-my...__  
__Sullen load is full, so slow on the split._

_And I told you to be patient,__  
__And I told you to be fine,__  
__And I told you to be balanced,__  
__And I told you to be kind,__  
__And now all your love is wasted,__  
__Then who the hell was I?__  
__'Cause now I'm breaking at the britches,__  
__And at the end of all your lines._

_Who will love you?__  
__Who will fight?__  
__And who will fall far behind?_

_Come on skinny love,__  
__My my my, my my my, my-my my-my...__  
__My my my, my my my, my-my my-my…"_

Severus felt almost lulled to sleep by her voice, but just then, her friends burst into the hall to find them and bring them home. James was with them, and Hermione shot up wuickly from her position w ith him on the floor.

The trip home was awkward. He refused to let Ella sit on his lap again, and he passed her off to Mark. Both Hermione and James kept looking at him in the rear view mirror.

Everyone was staying at Hermione's apartment this night, so Severus gave up James's bed so that the two girl Saoirse and Ella could stay in there, Peter and Mark moved the table and prompty passed out on the floor, sharing a blanket and pillow. Severus was on the sinking couch, the dog having taken over the other one. Neither James nor Mark had even attempted to move him.

Severus could her banging coming from Hermione's room.

"Oh James!"

He was in for a long night.

* * *

_The song was Skinny Love by Bon Iver._

_So how was that? Please R&amp;R!_


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N:**

_I'm so sorry about the ridiculous time gap in between this chapter and the last. I tried writing through the writer's block and hated every moment of it, so I decided to wait it out and try writing something else until I could get my motivation back to write this one. It seems to have worked, because here I am!_

_**This fic is rated M for violence, swearing (a LOT of swearing), touchy subjects including domestic abuse, miscarriages, attempted suicide and self mutilation. You have been warned. This is not a cheery fic and I beg you to remember that as we go on. Thank you.**_

**I do not own any characters whose names are recognised from the Harry Potter series. I do, however, own some of my own. I do not profit from writing this fanfiction, so don't go suing me like an asshole.**

**Chapter Four:**

It was an uneventful week after that. Severus went to work with Hermione, came home with Hermione, read more of To Kill a Mockingbird and soon moved on to Hermione's collection of classic fiction. Hermione had quit smoking, and Peter was giving her a wide berth after the nightclub incident. He didn't seem to be comfortable talking to her. Severus knew why, but he didn't see how Peter could blame Hermione for James's awful behaviour.

"So, what did you think of To Kill a Mockingbird?" Hermione asked him one night, both sipping tea and staring at the TV. Some sort of "soap opera" was playing. Someone was pregnant with someone else's baby. Not the boyfriend's. Drama.

"It was... interesting." Severus conceded with a nod of his head. "A good social commentary, I had never heard much about racism in America."

Hermione hm'd. "Did you fall for the guise of Atticus being the perfect human being?"

Severus frowned. "Isn't he the veritable hero of the novel?"

Hermione scoffed lightly, rubbing the back of her head. "If you think saying a teenage girl is lying about being raped because women are untrustworthy and she's poor makes him a hero." Severus was about to retort but she pout her hand up to stop him. "I know Tom Robinson didn't do it, it's obvious, but Atticus's reasoning for why was not acceptable. I regret Tom's death because he was innocent, but you still can't drag a poor girl's name through the mud to plead a case."

Severus nodded. "I hadn't thought of it like that."

"It just wasn't fair."

Severus sneered. "Life isn't fair."

Hermione looked at the TV and he barely caught her whisper. "But that doesn't mean it shouldn't be."

By the weekend Severus had read four more books, spending most of his time at work with Hermione pretending to be _special _and mutely reading them, and coming home to discuss them with Hermione. She made for an interesting conversation partner, and her wide knowledge of the books and the writing behind them helped him to clarify some points. He didn't have the same muggle knowledge as she did, but he kept up quite well anyway.

There seemed to be a bout of sickness going around. When Severus had arrived Peter had been ill, and now Hermione was also, snivelling often and throwing up almost everything she ate. She had to take the Friday off of work and Severus was thankful for the break, even if he felt bad watching her suffer. She spent most of the day in bed, and Severus brought her mugs of stuff called cup-a-soup and sat with her to talk. He enjoyed her company, he realised with a bit of trepidation. He knew at some point he'd have to leave, and as much as he missed his wand and the accessibility of magic, he would miss her. Severus scoffed at himself. He was definitely going soft.

.

He woke up Saturday morning with a dry mouth. He must have been snoring. He hadn't snored since he was a child; he usually didn't sleep deep enough for that. Severus rubbed at his eyes lazily. He was definitely becoming comfortable here. It just seemed so safe and... _happy_. He knew the people in the home had their problems, Hermione especially, but there was just such an atmosphere of easiness in the building and their manner that put most of Severus's fears at ease. His spy senses had been put on hold for the first time in twenty years.

He stumbled out of bed in his pyjamas. He had found himself so comfortable in this place that unless he was going somewhere he did what Hermione and Peter did: sat around in his pyjamas all day. There was something freeing about not having to get up and straight away don his stiff and constricting teaching robes in case anyone had need of him. The only thing he had to do here was wash dishes at the most.

Severus coloured slightly in embarrassment. Hermione had to teach him how to wash dishes. His mother had been an avid housewife and the house elves at Hogwarts and done all his cleaning for him during his time there. Even during summer when he retired to Spinner's End he used magic for all his cleaning-needs.

Stumbling out of the bedroom in his zombie-like state, searching for coffee, he came across something out of place.

There was a child on the couch. A small girl with dusty brown hair, Severus could tell she couldn't be more than nine of ten even from the back. She was watching some cartoon, but the volume wasn't on. Severus bypassed her and went into the kitchen in search of Hermione.

He found her in her pyjamas, a low riding pair of striped brown and white pants and a short white t-shirt. She had awful bed head and her makeup was smudged under her eyes making dark circles, and Severus wanted nothing more than to sweep her up and kiss her. But he didn't.

"Who is the girl in the living room?" He leaned against the door frame and whispered to Hermione. She turned to him tiredly.

"Good morning to you too." She muttered. "That's Melissa, Peter's little sister."

"Why is she here?"

"We take her off Peter's grandparents on weekends," she shrugged. "They need a break, they're old."

Severus frowned. "Where are her parents?"

Hermione sighed and rubbed at her stomach, obviously hungry but worried to eat. "They died in a car crash, Melly was there."

Severus nodded solemnly. So that was what the "accident" Peter referenced was.

"Why is she watching the telly with no sound?"

Hermione smirked sadly. "She's deaf, something about the psychological impact of losing her parents made her ears shut down, or at least that's what the doctors said." Hermione turned back to making tea. "Will you ask her if she wants tea?"

Severus turned, and then turned back again, confused. "How? She's deaf." He sounded rude even to his own crude ears.

Hermione laughed, twinkling pretty sound. "Point at her, and then make this gesture." She curled her fingers into a strange shape and let Severus see it from all angles before he tried it himself. She nodded and he went to ask the girl.

He opened his mouth to call for her but felt ridiculous. He waved widely to grab her attention. She looked at him and gave him an easy smile and he tried to repress his sneer. He pointed at her, and then made that strange gesture with his fingers. She seemed to understand and nodded enthusiastically.

"What was that?" Severus queried when he was back in the kitchen.

"Irish sign language. Does she want tea?"

"Yes. Is it in Irish?"

Hermione giggled and snorted. Severus thought it was sweet. "Severus it's sign language, it's not in any spoken language."

He frowned, feeling scorned at being laughed at. "Why do you know it?"

She busied herself making Melissa her tea, throwing on a cup of coffee for him and her as well. She knew how he took his coffee now, black with three sugars. "Peter and I learned it when she went deaf so we'd be able to speak to her. Peter went to classes with her and then taught me when he came home." She handed him a steaming cup of coffee and a cup of tea. "Go on and give that to Melly, I'll be in in a second. "

He put the tea and coffee on the table and found the dog lying across Melissa's lap. The animal was much bigger than she was, but her tiny hands stroked its neck with no fear, and the dog closed its eyes in pleasure.

He felt sidelined for the whole day, Hermione spent most of it looking after and talking to Melissa, if you could call it talking. They both waved their hands in the air like madmen giggling and smiling at each other. Severus just sat and read Othello. Hermione didn't work on weekends but it seemed as if he was going to have no conversation today, she was too preoccupied with the child. Severus almost felt jealous before he squashed down the ridiculous feeling.

They spent the whole day in almost-silence. Peter wasn't home; he had gone to do some on-and-off construction work to bring in extra money. When it came time to go to bed again, and Peter was in the shower, Hermione pulled Severus aside.

"You'll have to sleep in with me tonight."

Severus' eyebrows rose. "Why exactly?"

"Peter and Melly have to share his room, so you and me will be bed-mates for the weekend." She smiled at him mischievously. "Don't worry though; I'll keep my hands off you, taken woman after all." Severus was incensed; she was making jokes at his expense. As if she would put her hands on him even if she wasn't taken. Severus had no illusions that she did not return his attraction or his feelings. She frowned when she seemed to realise she'd annoyed him. "Sorry, gowan into bed, I'll be in later."

Severus nodded; jaw clenched tight, and disappeared into the bedroom.

He could hear shuffling in the next room as Hermione put Melissa to bed, and Severus lay on his back in the dark unable to fall asleep. How was he supposed to sleep knowing that any moment he would be sharing the bed of a girl he had pleasured himself to in the shower. If even the idea was torturous the actual experience would be worse.

The bed was just as soft as Peter's, if not softer. But he supposed she needed it, what with the miniscule amount of comfort she had available to her body while she was on the run, this must seem like an absolute heaven. Severus turned into the pillow and inhaled lightly. It smelled of her, like a sweet coconut scent like her hair when she was up wind of him as they walked to work. James hadn't been coming to get her. They still saw each other in the evenings, and he spent some nights, always disappearing before Severus woke up in the morning. Peter would sleep on the couch and grumble the day after about his back. He would be forced to listen to the noise of their sex at night, James was quite vocal, and it disgusted Severus to think of that beastly man rutting on her when he definitely didn't deserve to. That boy didn't deserve to lick the bottom of her shoe after what he did to her on Saoirse's birthday.

Oh everybody knew exactly what had happened, never mind Hermione's cries about falling over. It was common sense, but it was obvious nobody knew what to do about it. They had been together once before apparently, and had broken up after he left her in a state one night and Peter found her at the bottom of the staircase to the flat. And yet she went back to him. Hermione wouldn't tell Peter what it was that made him so angry.

Severus was pulled out of his seething reverie when Hermione entered the room, tiptoeing in the dark.

"You're on the wrong side of the bed."

"What?" Severus sat up.

"That's my side, c'mon, scooch." She shooed him and he rolled onto the other side of the bed where it was colder. He put his back to her. Hermione lay down with a groan, and the vertebrae of her spine popped. "Thanks for keeping it warm for me." She jested.

"You're welcome." He bit over his shoulder sarcastically. She turned over in the bed.

Their backs were touching and Severus felt as if he couldn't breathe.

.

It was two weeks later that he found her in the bathroom.

He woke up one morning to the sound of muffled sobbing, coming from the bathroom. Peter was still snoring in the other room. He stumbled out of bed, trying to stay quiet, and walked lightly to the bathroom door. High feminine sobs came from behind it, and Severus barely hesitated before opening it a crack.

Hermione was there, sitting on the toilet lid. There was blood on the inside of her thighs, a lot of it. Her face was red and tear stained, and she had her hands over her mouth trying to muffle her cries. Severus coughed lightly to make himself known, and her head shot up in surprise. They stared at each other for a few moments before panic clouded her eyes and she slammed the door. HE could hear the door locking.

"Hermione, are you alright..." he didn't know what to say. What could he say?

"Go away!" was her only reply.

"Hermione please unlock the door." He knocked against it lightly; she needed to go to the hospital.

"FUCK OFF." She kicked the door hard and Peter's snoring stopped abruptly.

"What's happening?" He ran out of the bedroom wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Hermione's locked herself in the bathroom. She's crying."

"Oh crap." Peter breathed. "Not again."

Severus left the hall and went to the kitchen. He figured Peter was more equipped to handle this than he was. He filled the kettle up and clicked it on. He heard the bathroom door open slowly and the muffled sound of Hermione's weeping and Peter's soothing nothings came through the wall. Severus made tea for everyone and brought it out, leaving it on the coffee table. Staring at it for a moment, he realised there were rings.

Peter ran from the bathroom into Hermione's bedroom again while the shower turned on. Severus sat down on the sinking couch and the dog came to beg for attention. Severus rubbed him distractedly behind the ears while Peter disappeared back into the bathroom with a fresh set of pyjamas. For a moment Severus thought it was strange that Peter would be with her while she showered, but realised that in that moment propriety didn't really matter. She probably needed her best friend badly at the time.

They emerged ten minutes later, Peter dragging Hermione by the hand. Her hair was wet and plastered to her head, and with her red rimmed eyes and pale skin she looked like a spectre. They sat on the couch in front of Severus in silence for several moments before Hermione spoke.

"Peter, get your guitar."

He nodded sadly and went to grab it from his bedroom. He came back out with the beige instrument and sat to tune it.

"Alesund?" He said without looking at her.

She nodded and breathed out. She pulled a cigarette from Peter's box on the table and lit it. Her hands were trembling.

Peter played three notes before Hermione stopped him. "Skip the intro," her words shook in her throat as she talked. "I just need to sing."

Peter acquiesced immediately, changing the tempo and style almost completely. Severus was fascinated by his finger's movement over the strings of the guitar. He messed up at one point, whispering an expletive before continuing.

Hermione began to sing. It was lower than he had heard before, and so much more subdued.

"_No this is not my guitar__  
__I'm bringing it to a friend__  
__And no I don't sing__  
__I'm only humming along."_

She definitely sang. Her voice was steadier than it was when she spoke. __

_"Up here in the air__  
__I'm just mumbling at the clouds__  
__Wanting to be known__  
__While I pass the lonely hours."_

Severus knew how that felt, wishing for recognition and feeling burning loneliness.__

_"I came down from the moon__  
__I saw you in the rain__  
__Laughing with some people__  
__Hair dripping down your face."_

Her hair dripped into her own eyes and she closed them slowly. Her voice became slightly more unsteady the longer she went on.__

_"Your calm hypnotic eyes__  
__Your Scandinavian glow__  
__I felt them like a flame__  
__Candle in my cold bones."_

Severus thought that this woman could easily be his fire. She had no Scandinavian glow, but her skin shone with sadness. His bones were extremely cold, and he wanted nothing more than to take her up in his arms and let the both of them give to each other. Her give him warmth, him give her strength.__

_"Tonight you were my muse__  
__As I belted and I strummed__  
__Trying not to drown__  
__In the helicopter drone."_

She started crying then, and Severus worried that maybe she would drown. __

_"From the crowd I heard__  
__You sing a pretty line__  
__Was it: "there's so much love -__  
__that I wanna cry"."_

Every line she sand was pretty. More than pretty, strikingly beautiful.__

_"I thought about it long__  
__Had you repeat it in my ear__  
__I couldn't place a thought__  
__without you being so close."_

Severus couldn't think around her. Around her and her voice he was a pile of nothing, just empty skin and bones that had nothing to do but listen to her perfect words. She started crying in earnest with the next verse. Sobs wracking her body and yet her voice didn't break once, every note still in tune. __

_"I should've played it then__  
__From the intro to the end__  
__When they offered me the stage__  
__At the bar we landed in___

_But I turned and walked__  
__Away from all the fun__  
__And back into the black__  
__Seaside night of Alesund___

_Alesund."_

Peter finished playing, put down the guitar and took Hermione's hand as she cried. Severus stood up and walked to her easily, took her in his arms, buried her head in his shoulder, and held her crying form.

_**I'm sorry that the chapter's a bit short but I needed to end it there. The song is Alesund by Sun Kil Moon.**_


End file.
